Music Box
by EverShadow
Summary: AU: Set in a fictional 18th century Europe. At age 10, Santana Lopez, born into the wealthy and influential Lopez family, comes to acquire a peasant girl by the name of Brittany. And despite class differences, Santana falls in love with her.
1. Prologue: The Birthday Present

**Author's note: So begins Music Box. Most chapters probably won't be this long, I just couldn't stop writing. Enjoy!**

* * *

The Lopez family was not a family to trifle with. They were close friends of the king. Duke Lopez happened to be one of his closest friends and his fortune and influence knew no bounds. It wasn't as if the Lopez family had anyone who would cross them. They were generally well-liked people, consisting of only the father, the mother and the young daughter. The only ones who had a problem with the family was the Karofsky family who had been thrown from their seat of power when it was discovered that they had neglected to watch the Prince on one visit. The Prince had slipped and fallen into the river, soaking him to the bone and nearly drowning him. Duke Lopez's profession was medicine and he had sealed his spot in the upper class when he alone saved the king's son from the terrible illness that resulted from his fall. No other physician knew how to treat the boy. But the then Marquess Lopez took one look at the ailing boy and treated him as quickly as he knew how. He stayed by the boy's side for a whole week, not leaving for anything except when he absolutely had to. When the boy finally awoke and his fever broke, the king almost broke down and cried from relief. He immediately appointed him to be his personal doctor and even sometimes advisor. Marquess Lopez became Duke Lopez taking the title previously held by the head of the Karofsky family and they'd held a grudge ever since.

Duke Lopez quickly established himself not only as a skilled doctor, but as a charismatic and effective diplomat. He quickly went about using his new influence to repair and strengthen allied relations and his actions only served to make the king rely on and trust him even more. They were celebrated, credited to bringing general peace to the neighboring nations and founding new treaties with those not as close. The king often boasted about his close advisor, saying that he alone had brought about a new era of wealth and prosperity to their great nation.

They had only one child, a bright, spirited daughter by the name of Santana Lopez. The king once asked why Duke Lopez never tried for more children. He promised that if Duke Lopez were ever to have a son, that son would enjoy the comforts of the highest rank the king himself could provide. But Duke Lopez politely declined, attributing his hesitance to the frailty of his wife.

"I almost lost her in child birth. I won't risk that again. Besides, I have the most beautiful little girl a father could want and I am more than pleased with that." Duke Lopez replied when the king asked.

Ever since she was a baby, anyone who had seen her made comments that she was going to grow up to be a beautiful young lady, possibly even more beautiful than any child of the Fabrays. The Fabrays too had a daughter the same age as Santana. Their family specialized in the finances of the country, who to borrow money to and who to collect from. The Fabrays were also known for their stunning good looks. For several generations, men and women from their family were infamous for breaking hearts simply by entering a room. They had an older daughter, already making her rounds in court despite how young she was. Already some of the boys on the cusp of becoming men tried to court her but she effortlessly turned them down, following her mother's advice to "hold off and find the richest, most important man she could find." Their second daughter, Quinn, looked follow in her sister's footsteps. She and the Lopez daughter played together every now and again, while their fathers discussed business and their mothers busied themselves with chatting about their husbands, the servants, and of course court gossip. The two families were close, and they had to be for their position. It was lucky then that they got along well enough.

Santana was a lovely child. She grew up without a care in the world, educated by the finest teachers in languages, rhetoric, music and etiquette. As she aged and attended parties with her parents, she learned quickly how to be charmingly polite. Older women fawned over her, cooing that she was such a sweet little princess sure to catch the attention of a handsome young man in the future with wealth and looks. Santana in return would smile cutely and thank them for the compliment.

To be honest, Santana was a bit of a handful. The servants at her estate found this out quickly. As soon as she learned how to crawl, she was off exploring the home, with its dozens of rooms and vast expanse of hunting ground and gardens in the back. Her nanny quickly learned that taking her eyes off the little girl for even a minute would result in more than an hour of searching. Santana knew all of the best places to hide. She flitted around the house, ducking into cupboards and giggling to herself until the her nanny inevitably heard her and carried her back to her room.

Santana was spoiled, there was no doubt about it. Her father brought back new toys and presents for her every day. Many of them were gifts from the king and they ranged from gold hair combs to thoroughbred ponies for her to ride as she grew older. There almost wasn't a single thing that Santana lacked.

Growing up in the aristocracy, Santana never found time for friends. It was either lessons one minute, attending concerts the next or entertaining guests. As a young girl she often looked outside and watched the stable boys and servant girls run around the yard playing hide and seek in the bushes. They'd look so happy, so content with their lives that sometimes Santana wanted to join them. But they were the lower class and her mother told her never to play with the lower classes unless she wanted to catch whatever communicable diseases they had.

Curiosity and rebelliousness, however, caused her to ignore much of what her mother said. She wandered down to the stable one morning when her nanny wasn't looking. She mostly wanted to see the white pony the king had sent her as an early birthday gift. She found a boy laying in the hay, snoring. She quietly walked over to him. He was a funny looking boy with tanned skin that signified the working lower class. He was wearing a white buttoned shirt, suspenders and brown pants. His face was obscured by a hat that he wore over his face to keep the sunlight out. Santana, in her white lace and frilled dress made her way over.

"Excuse me." She said. The boy snored in response. "Excuse me!" She said louder. The boy awoke with a start, jumping to his feet.

"Huh? What? Don't hit me!" He put up his hands in defense. "I wasn't sleeping, I was thinking! Honest!" He looked around and realized that he was in no danger of being beaten for sleeping on the job. He let out a sigh and put on his hat and yawned. He spit into the hay and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Santana was initially repulsed by his bad manners but at the same time he fascinated her. He represented everything she was not, dirty, poor, but free. She recognized him as one of the boys that would play in her family's land. If she wasn't mistaken, he was the stable boy in charge of taking care of her ponies.

"What do _you_ want?" The boy asked.

"I just came down to see my pony Eris." She replied. The boy sneered.

"He's right over here." He said, jerking his thumb over to one of the stalls where the pony snorted and shook its head. Santana smiled and watched the boy as he picked at his teeth and looked around.

"What do you do here?" She asked.

"What do you think? Haven't you been to a stable before?" He sneered. Santana was offended by his tone of voice and she put her hands on her hips angrily.

"That's no way to talk to a lady." She said indignantly.

"You're no lady." The boy stuck out his tongue. Santana frowned and fumed as the boy continued to make faces at her.

"Take that back! I am too a lady! I'm educated, I'm dressed like one. My father is a duke."

"You sure have no beauty to boast of! I thought Ladies were s'posed to be handsome!" The boy teased. Santana wanted to hit him but the insult cut deep and she dropped her hands and began bawling. The boy pointed and laughed at her, doubling over. But just as soon as her wails drifted outside, a young man burst into the barn to see what the commotion was.

"Lady Santana!" He exclaimed. He took one look at the situation to size up what was happening.

"Uh oh." The boy said, backing away. His eyes darted towards the opening of the barn, wondering how fast his little legs could take him before he could get caught. But by the time he decided to move, the stable master swooped in and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, lifting him up.

"How dare you make the young miss cry?"

"Let me go!" The boy cried, struggling. The man hit him over the head.

"The next time you make the little lady cry, Puck, I swear I'm going to give you a beating so hard your mother in Heaven will feel it!" The stable master shouted. Santana, slightly amused but mostly still hurt watched him as the stable master hit him across the shoulders a couple of more times, causing the boy to let out a steady stream of curse words Santana had never heard before. The profanity only caused the stable master more anger.

"Do not curse in front of the Miss!" He commanded.

"I'm sorry! Let me go now!" Puck pleaded. Finally taking pity, or perhaps no longer wishing to subject the daughter of Master Lopez to such violence, the stable master put him down.

"Sorry about that, Miss. Puck here is a bit of a spitfire but he means well and he takes care of your horses well enough. If you'll excuse me." The stable master bowed a little and went outside to continue wrangling the horses for the afternoon hunt. Puck stood up, slightly bent over at the hip. He rubbed his head and his shoulders, checking to see if any permanent damage had been done. Tears filled his eyes, threatening to spill over and he pouted angrily.

"Why are you still here?" He demanded, turning around so that he wasn't facing her any more and could therefore hide his shame. Santana wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Hmph, I wish I'd never come here!" She yelled before turning on her heel and storming out of the stable. She couldn't help but glance back as she made her way up the hill and back towards her house. He sat back down on the hay and rubbed his eyes, sniffing a little before curling up. Santana couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the boy, even if he did insult her.

Back at the house, Quinn Fabray had just arrived for their weekly play date. Santana liked the girl well enough, even if she could be a little grating to the nerves. She was an adorable blond girl with hazel eyes and porcelain skin and she reminded Santana of the dolls that they played with. Mrs. Lopez greeted Mrs. Fabray politely, inviting her in for tea, leaving the two girls to their own devices. Santana looked at Quinn who shifted nervously.

"Would you like to play with my dolls?" Santana asked. Quinn nodded and the two scurried off to Santana's room. When they got there, they hopped up on the bed, taking the china dolls off of Santana's night stand. Quinn dressed hers up in a ball gown while Santana opted for a more practical riding gear.

"Tomorrow's my birthday, Quinn." Santana said.

"How old are you going to be?" Quinn asked.

"I'm going to be 10, you're the same age as me."

"Untrue, you're going to be a little older than me!" Quinn countered. Santana frowned.

"Father says I'm going to be a big girl tomorrow. We're going to have a big party and everyone is invited, even you." Santana said.

"I know, mother mentioned it." Quinn replied, standing the doll up so that she could get a better look at it.

"Father's taking me to an auction house so that I can pick out whatever present I want." Santana boasted. Quinn smiled brightly. She liked the auction house, it was full of all sorts of items and people waving their hands. It was a friendly place in her mind, and she especially liked the man at the front with his gavel and large moustache.

"Get another doll. This one is old." Quinn suggested.

"It's my birthday." Santana said. "I'm going to get what I want." Quinn shrugged indifferently.

"Get a doll anyway." Santana put her doll down and looked out the window. She was getting bored of playing with dolls all the time. That was what Quinn wanted to do every single time she came over. She wanted to go outside.

"Let's go play in the garden!" Santana said, hopping off her bed. Quinn looked at her as if she had just said the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

"Outside? But there are bees out there! Last time we played outside I got stung and it really, really hurt!" Santana remembered that time. They'd been picking flowers along the path and Quinn picked one that was already taken by a bee. That bee did not want to share and so it stung Quinn right on her hand. The blond let out a scream that deafened Santana for a while and ran back towards the house. Santana followed her, dropping her flowers on the way. Quinn could not be consoled for hours after that and since then, she loathed going anywhere near flowers.

"It'll be fun! I promise you won't get stung this time." Santana pleaded.

"I don't want to." Quinn crossed her arms and refused to move.

"Fine. I'm going outside. And I'm also telling your mother that you're the one who broke her tea set that time we were throwing the ball around." Quinn's ears and eyes perked up when she heard the threat.

"You won't!" She said. Santana stuck out her tongue.

"Then come play outside with me!" She said and dashed out of the room. Quinn dropped the doll on her bed and chased after her, shouting for her to stop throughout the five rooms it took to get to the outside door. Before she knew it, she was standing on the cobblestoned walkway into the garden. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"Santana...I don't want to be here." She whined. Santana returned to her side.

"Come on, Quinn. I promise, promise you won't get stung!" She said. Quinn bit her lip nervously and looked around. She saw gardeners attending to the flowers and a stable boy walking from the barn across the yard. Santana followed her gaze and saw the stable boy too. The stable boy looked up, almost as if sensing that he was being watched. When he made eye contact with Santana, he stuck out his tongue and turned to walk in the opposite direction.

"What was that?" Quinn asked.

"A stupid stable boy." Santana replied.

"You should get your father to discipline him, teach him his place. He shouldn't be acting to us like that." Quinn said. Santana shrugged.

"I don't really care about him." The two skipped around, Quinn soon forgetting all about her fear. They stopped at the giant fountain in the center of garden and sat down on the stone benches. Quinn brushed her hair back.

"My sister already has a duke wanting to marry her. Mother says she should because it's the closest she's going to get to the monarchy. She says that if I play my cards right and grow up proper, and with some help from my sister's connections, I could wind up marrying a prince!" Quinn said cheerfully. Santana shrugged.

"My father's already got money, I don't see why I should want more."

"Mother says that unless you're married to the king, you can always marry higher and you should." Quinn said with a certain air of snobbery. Santana said nothing. She'd been told the same thing by her mother, except her mother never mentioned the word "should." Rather, she substituted the word "would" in there, implying that due to Master Lopez's connections, Santana was going to marry into a higher rank whether she intended to or not. Santana never said anything in return, merely nodding and replying "yes mother" like a good girl should.

"Quinn! Quinny!" A voice floated down from the back porch. Quinn stood up and turned to Santana.

"I have to go, mother's calling. But I will see you at your party tomorrow. Make sure it's entertaining, understood?" She nodded slightly to Santana and dashed off in the direction of the house. Santana stood up and breathed in a large sigh. She looked over at the stable and caught the stable boy, Puck, glancing at her. He pulled down his lower eyelids with his fingers, showing his teeth. She turned her head in the air flippantly and walked back towards her house.

For a child the age of 9, the day before their 10th birthday lasted forever. Santana fidgeted uncomfortably at the dinner table, glancing at the clock every few seconds to see if a lot of time had passed. Her mother, in the middle of cutting her duck, looked over at her.

"Good girls know how to be patient, even if it is their birthday." She noted. Santana faced forward immediately though her eyes darted to the corners still while her mother wasn't looking. Her father laughed a deep belly laugh.

"Your mother is right. And good girls get to pick out whatever they want at the auction tomorrow." He said. Santana grinned.

"Really Papa?" She asked, bouncing up and down in her seat excitedly.

"Indeed." Her father nodded. Santana giggled and began eating her vegetables like a good girl. Her mother nodded approvingly as she downed her peas. When dinner was finished, Santana went upstairs and took a bath, despite hating it. All she could think of was going to the auction house and picking out the prettiest most expensive thing she could find. As her nanny tucked her into bed, she sat up suddenly.

"Nana, what would you get if you were at the auction house?" She asked. Nana gently coaxed her down.

"I would get whatever caught my eye." She responded.

"What do you want?" Santana asked. The nursemaid laughed a little.

"Miss, what I want and what you want are two completely different things, you see. Go with your father tomorrow to the auction house and you'll know when you see it." She tucked Santana back in and left the room. Santana looked outside her big glass window at the shining moon and stars. As she drifted, all she could think about were the jewelery boxes, the beautiful hairpins and dresses that she would find tomorrow.

* * *

When Santana awoke the next morning, she all but jumped out of bed. It was early in the morning and the auction house didn't open until much later but she wanted to get there early to scout out what there was for sale. She dashed over to her parents room, both still slumbering soundly. She jumped on her father's bed and began hopping up and down.

"Papa! Papa! It's my birthday!" Her father snorted and his eyes opened sleepily.

"Princess, it's hardly 7." He muttered.

"It's my birthday! I want to go early!" She kept bouncing, causing her mother to hit her father on the arm.

"Just go with her." She said. "Nothing bad ever came of arriving early, you know." Her father let out a giant sigh and sat up. Santana clapped her hands eagerly as he yawned, stretching his arms well above his head.

"Alright, princess, but we do get breakfast first, understand?" He said, rubbing his eyes and slipping into his robe. Santana got off the bed and hugged her father's leg.

"Thanks Papa!" She ran off to find her nanny so that she could get properly dressed. Her father smiled and filled up his coin purse with notes and currency, enough to buy the whole auction house if she so wished. He just hoped she didn't have that set in her sights.

It was a little after 11 when the carriage arrived at the auction house. It was a decent sized building, with marble pillars and granite walls. People of all ages, sizes and classes showed up, either to spectate or to participate. High ranking officials from all over made their presence, with Santana's father nodding and chatting with a good many of them. Santana in the mean time busied herself with looking around at all of the different items for sale. There was a beautiful chestnut colored dresser in one corner, on top a magnificent silver and gold tea set. Next to it stood a beautiful porcelain blue and gold vase. Paintings in gold frames stood, lining the edges on individual mantels. Expensive books rested on bookshelves and jewelery were displayed in display cases. Santana looked at all of them with eager eyes.

It was her birthday, and her father told her she could pick out anything she wanted. There were even lapdogs for sale and Santana briefly considered getting one of them before she noticed something resting on top of a cabinet meant for displaying dishes and silverware. It was a bright red music box, trimmed in gold. The designs etched into it were an intricate Celtic pattern, resembling the tangled roots of a large tree. There was a porcelain disk embedded into the front, showing an angel gracefully extending its arms out while white doves surrounded it. Santana quickly walked over to it and took it in her hands. She wound it up and it started playing the most beautiful melody that she'd ever heard. Looking closer, there were several bright gems embedded into its sides, ranging from diamonds to emeralds to rubies.

"We shouldn't touch things." Her father said, gently taking the music box out of her hands.

"I want that, Papa!" She said, pointing to it. Her father looked at it up and down.

"Alright, princess. Are you sure?" He asked.

"Yes! I'm absolutely sure!" She insisted, nodding enthusiastically. Her father laughed and fished several large coins from his coin purse. He opened Santana's red and blue purse and dropped them in.

"Here you go. This should be more than enough to buy it when the calls for it. You know how to win an auction, right? I have some business to attend to in the room next door. Just raise your hand at the very end. If we some how lose it, just memorize the name of the person who bought it and tell me, alright?" He kissed her on the forehead.

"Yes, papa." Santana replied. Her father moved through the crowd to join his friends in the room next door as they discussed matters of the nation.

Santana sat down on a chair, eagerly awaiting the moment they brought the music box up. She eyed her competition, mostly old fat men looking to buy gifts for their daughters or wifes or mistresses. But today was Santana's birthday and she was going to win this auction. As the men brought up pieces one by one, Santana's eyes began to wander the room, looking to see if she recognized any of the people there. She knew one or two from the balls that they attended but no one really stuck out in her mind.

"And here we have this beautiful display case," the auctioneer droned on. Santana yawned, feeling a little sleepy from the long ride and the early rise. But she shook her head and focused on the task at hand. She would never be able to forgive herself if someone else won the auction because she fell asleep.

She thought about the extravagant party she was going to have. The Fabrays were sure to buy her something to wear, they had for the past 9 years. The Berrys were also going to make an appearance though it was a long journey for them, being out in the country. The king and the prince were going to stop by, if only briefly but she was excited to have royalty attend no matter what.

"And here we have this beautiful scarlet music box..." Santana's attention snapped forward and she focused on her prize. There it was, in all its glory, being presented on the podium. She sat up eagerly and waited. There didn't seem to be that much interest in it, lucky for Santana.

"Please Papa! Don't do this, please!" A commotion to the right of her caused Santana to look away for a moment. She scanned the room, trying to find the source of the noise. When she found it, she frowned.

"Please don't leave me, please papa, please." A young blond girl with scared blue eyes, dressed in peasants clothes gripped and older man, no doubt her father, by the leg. Tears overflowed from her cheeks as she pleaded with him.

"This is for the best." Her father said but the look in his eyes showed that whatever decision he was making was equally difficult for him.

"Don't leave me, papa!" The girl wailed. "Don't send me away!"

"You have five brothers and a new sister. This man offered enough money for us to take care of your mother and your siblings. They'd die of starvation, don't you understand?" Her father tried to explain, prying her thin arms off of his leg. To the left of them, and old, white haired man with quite a belly counted out several notes. The girl buried her face into his leg and sobbed loudly. By now, everyone was at least glancing at them because of all the ruckus they were creating.

"Don't give me away, papa! Don't leave me!" The girl kept repeating. Santana looked back at the music box and then to the girl. She was about Santana's age.

"It's for the best." Her father said quietly, his face contorted in pain and agony at the thought of selling his daughter like this. "You'll be fed, clothed and housed far better than any of us would be able to provide."

"Here's your money." The aristocrat said, handing over the notes. The man took the money.

"I love you papa, don't leave me!" Her father patted her on the head and then tore her away, handing her arm to the aristocrat. Santana watched, not knowing why she felt bad for the girl. She'd never seen anything like this. She knew the young servants had to come from somewhere but she'd never seen a transaction actual take place.

What she didn't know was that it wasn't a mere servant transaction. The aristocrat was well known, infamous, for buying young girls and raising them to be his own personal mistresses. No one ever said anything to his face, he had far too much power and money for that. What he did with his money was his own business. If he wanted to buy girls for his own personal brothel, that was his matter, no one else's. This girl was no exception. The money he offered was too tempting and needed by the family to refuse, especially after the mother had just delivered yet another baby. So this girl was the sacrifice for the rest of the family to survive.

Santana watched as the girl struggled and cried for her father. Something about the way the aristocrat smirked at her made Santana feel uneasy, and she didn't like watching the whole scenario. She looked back at the music box. People were still bidding on it at a fairly steady rate. She turned back to watch more. By now the aristocrat had both of the girls wrists clasped in his own as he struggled to get her under control.

"Be good!" He ordered, slapping her across the face. The people around him jumped at the sound of the hit but they did their best to ignore him and focus on the auction at hand. The blond girl went instantly quiet, though tears still streamed from her face.

"Any more bids? Anymore?" The auctioneer said. Santana gazed at the music box. It was beautiful and it had caught her attention and she was going to buy it.

"It's your birthday today, no?" She heard the aristocrat say. "Let me buy you a necklace, hmm? It will look beautiful on you." The way he said it made Santana's skin crawl. She looked back at the girl, whose head was bowed in defeat. Then the blond girl looked up and made eye contact with Santana. Something in Santana wrenched and her heart ached for the girl who had been sold by her own father on her birthday.

She got up off of the chair and made her way over. The aristocrat noticed someone small walking towards him and looked over. He instantly recognized her.

"Lady Santana Lopez! What a pleasure it is!" He said in a way that betrayed no sense of guilt for what he was doing.

"Going once, going twice..." The auctioneer announced. Santana swallowed and made her decision. "Sold!" The gavel fell and the music box was taken away. Santana held out her money purse to the aristocrat.

"I want to buy her." She announced. The blond girl looked up sharply, her eyes wide with shock. The aristocrat looked down at his newly attained prize and then back at the coin purse Santana presented to him. He took it and looked inside. There was more than enough money there to cover two of the blond girls.

"Um...My Lady, if you don't mind me saying, she's not for sale."

"It's my birthday." Santana announced. "My father said I could have whatever I wanted at the auction house."

"But what would you do with her?" The aristocrat asked. Santana shrugged. She hadn't really thought that far ahead.

"Servant girl." She responded. "Um...my own private servant girl." The aristocrat began to sweat. There was no way he could win in this situation. To refuse a Lopez on any matter, even this one could bring trouble for him. At the same time, he did not want to give up this girl. She was sure to grow up to be a beauty and he was more than a little reluctant to give her up.

"Please, is there anything else I can do? I can offer you another servant girl, one much nicer and more obedient than this one." The aristocrat pleaded.

"I want this one." Santana said, putting her foot down.

"Did you win, princess?" At that very moment, Santana's father walked over. Santana looked up at him and so did the aristocrat who turned a slight shade paler.

"No papa, I want this girl." She said firmly. Her father jerked his head back in surprise and surveyed the girl his daughter was talking about.

"What? You don't want the music box? I thought..." He saw the determination in her eyes. "But what would buying this girl do?"

"That's precisely what I told her, Your Grace." The man said. Duke Lopez finally looked at the man whom Santana wanted to buy the girl from. His eyes narrowed instantly when he recognized who it was and knew exactly what he was going to do to this girl.

"Count." He said, nodding curtly and coldly.

"I told your lovely daughter," Duke Lopez bristled when he said those words but he kept his expression in check. "That I have lots of other girls she can have as a servant girl."

"I want her." Santana replied firmly. "I even lost the music box because of it." Duke Lopez smiled warmly at his daughter and then turned his steely gaze upon the Count.

"It is my daughter's birthday." He said. The air of power and influence seeped from every pore and the Count knew it was a fight he wasn't going to win. "And she seems to be set on a personal servant." The Count laughed nervously.

"But..."

"There's more than enough money in that pouch to pay for this girl." His gaze turned slightly hostile and threatening. "I suggest you take it, it is a better deal for you after all." The count shuddered under the menacing glare.

"Very...very well, Duke. I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused." He said, releasing the girl. Duke Lopez grabbed her hand gently and the girl put her hand to her mouth, shaking due to fear. The Count regarded Santana.

"Happy birthday to you, Miss Lopez." He said, though his voice contained traces of bitterness. He promptly left the auction house. Duke Lopez sighed in relief and looked down at the trembling, crying girl.

"You got your birthday present, Santana." He said, motioning towards the petrified peasant girl. "Let's head home, I can feel a headache starting to set in." He rubbed his temples and led both girls, one in each hand out of the auction house. Santana leaned back and looked at the girl. She was still shaking like a feather in the wind but she wiped her eyes and no more tears were falling. The whole ordeal had been traumatizing for her but she seemed to be in better shape now that she wasn't in the hands of the Count. As they got in the carriage, Santana and her father sat on one side and the blond girl sat on the other, her knees drawn up to her face in fear.

"No one will hurt you." Duke Lopez assured. "I can assure you of that." The girl nodded numbly. "Will you tell us your name?" The girl shook her head, her lips pressed together tightly. Her eyes were still wide. Duke Lopez sighed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two small pieces of candy. One he handed to Santana and the other he handed to the girl.

"I promise nothing bad will happen to you." He said again. The blond girl looked from the candy to the Duke, with his gentle, reassuring looks. The girl reached out and tentatively took the candy from him, unwrapping the foil and popping the sweet into her mouth before returning to her huddled position. Santana watched her, noticing that she glanced up at her every few minutes and then quickly averted her gaze. They rode mostly in silence, with Duke Lopez having fallen asleep mid-ride. When they almost reached the house, Santana spoke.

"My name is Santana." She said. "What's yours?" The blond shifted in her position and looked up at her.

"My name is Brittany."


	2. Prologue: The Birthday Curse

**Author's note: Phew, ok, I lied. This chapter is just as long as the last one. I would also like to thank my wonderful beta, jugstheclown for taking the time to iron out the mistakes! Yay!**

* * *

Brittany Pierce hadn't always been poor. Her family had never been rich but they hadn't always been as dirt poor as Brittany's siblings remembered. Her father worked for a wealthy and powerful family as a shoemaker. They had a small house on the property, near the outskirts in a relatively quiet area. Her mother maintained a small garden patch outside where she harvested the vegetables and sold it in the city market. Life was more than acceptable. But at a very early age, Brittany couldn't even remember much she was so young, the wealthy family had been driven out. With that family gone, they were also forced to abandon their home.

They attempted to follow the family but the head of the house could neither afford paying for their services nor much else since they'd been evicted. Brittany's father then turned to the new family and pleaded with them to keep them. He promised to make the finest shoes that they'd ever seen but the new family rejected them as well.

With no employment options, the family moved to the city with their daughter and newly born son. Brittany was three and she didn't remember all of it. She did remember the night the messenger boy knocked on their door and relayed to them the news that they needed to be out of the house in two days. She did remember her mother crying when her father closed the door, thanking the boy in an empty tone that signaled that he didn't really mean what he said. Her mother wailed, asking what they were going to do. Her baby brother, startled by the noise, cried too.

It was one of the first memories Brittany had. Her mother on their large bed with the covers tightly wrapped around her because it was cold. She wept and handed the baby to her husband so that she could cover her face. Her father did his best to console his new son, rocking him back and forth whispering with no real conviction that everything was going to alright. Too young to understand why everyone was so sad, and why her mother was crying, Brittany broke into tears as well.

In two days, Brittany and her family packed up what precious few things they owned, some clothes, the sheets, their silverware which they promptly sold in an effort to obtain money quickly, and her father's tools to mend shoes. They rented a small house, far too small for four people. Her father had tried making a living repairing shoes. The instant they moved in, he made a sign that said, "cobbler and shoemaker" and hung it up. Brittany remembered helping him paint the sign. But few people showed, sometimes, none at all. Where they lived, people were lucky to have shoes, much less afford to get them repaired.

Brittany took to begging on the streets for money. The first time she did it, she was four, and her mother ushered her outside, telling her to ask anyone, whether they looked rich or not, for money. She quickly learned what it felt like to be hungry all the time, that begging on certain corners got you more money and others resulted in beatings from the local bullies. But not long after she'd started begging, her mother gave birth to yet another boy, another mouth they couldn't afford to feed. Her father promised that they would manage but her mother was skeptical. A year and a few months later, her mother gave birth to another boy, and then the year after, twins. Their family kept growing until they became a house of eight and it became apparent that they were in danger of starving to death.

Life got increasingly difficult. Brittany was in charge of not only begging for money, but taking care of her younger brothers. Her mother took to repairing clothes for precious few coins. She remembered feeding her brothers before she ate and there was usually no food after that. She usually watched them as they ate, thinking to herself that they needed to grow quickly so that they could start working to help out. But optimistic thoughts did not feed a hungry stomach and Brittany found herself feeling faint after a long day. Her father would always sacrifice his meals for her so Brittany never starved, but life was hard and there was no end in sight to their dilemma.

As a child, her mother often told her stories about how one day, a wealthy and handsome Lord would see her on the streets and fall madly in love with her. Brittany went to sleep, wishing that she'd grow older faster so that she could meet this man who would not only provide for her, but her whole family. It was these stories that helped her sleep at night when her whole body ached and her stomach rumbled from starvation.

Things only got worse when her mother got pregnant again. Brittany was 9 when her mother realized why she'd been getting sick in the mornings. She sat on the bed and cried for hours, saying things like, "we can't afford any more children! They're going to die of starvation as is!" Brittany watched her mother break down hysterically while her younger brothers also cried out of both hunger and sadness. Without a word, she ran out the door and into the streets at night. Outside, it was quiet and cool and Brittany dried her tears on her palm as she wandered aimlessly. A watchmen on his night shift glanced at her, but couldn't be bothered by a stray girl crying in the darkness; he'd seen far too many of those. So Brittany walked around, following the street until she stumbled upon a church. Her family had never been religious; they usually worked all day, even when everyone else went to church to pray. Brittany had never tried it, but she fell upon the steps, hands folded together and her eyes squeezed shut.

"Please, God." She whispered. "Save my family."

Her wish did not come true immediately. Her brothers, as each one grew old enough, joined her on the streets, begging anyone who walked by. Her mother had just given birth to a baby girl and despite the fact that there was no food for anyone anymore, Brittany was excited to finally have a sister after five brothers. She promised to herself that she would do everything she could for her baby sister. It was a little more than a month before her birthday and she treated her little sister like an early birthday present.

It was a few days after the birth of little Mary that the Count showed up. It was a cold morning, foggy and hard to see when the children went out into the streets. Brittany and one of the twins were out on their usual corner when a dog ran past them. Excited and curious, her little brother gave a squeal of delight and chased after it. Brittany heard the hooves and the squeaking of the wheels of the approaching carriage.

"No! Stop!" She called out, running after him. Just as the horses came into view, Brittany grabbed her brother and turned to shield him against danger. The horses came to an abrupt stop, neighing in protest as the driver let out a stream of curses. When Brittany opened her eyes, both she and her brother were safe.

"I ought to whip you, little girl!"

"I am sorry!" Brittany said, pushing her brother behind her back to protect him in case the driver did come down from his perch to beat her. The curtains on the side of the carriage parted and an older, bald fat man looked out angrily.

"What is the meaning of this? Why have we stopped so suddenly?"

"Sorry Count Baste, this pauper ran in front of the carriage and nearly died."

"Hmph, you should've let the horses keep going, he'll not be missed." The Count scoffed. Just as he was about to close the purple curtains, he spotted Brittany and did a double take at the girl. His eyes narrowed, perplexed. The driver was about to start the horses again when the Count interrupted.

"Driver, wait."

"Yes Count." The Count peered at Brittany who started to shrink away under his scrutinizing gaze. He snapped his fingers, clearly a signal, and the driver got off of his seat and opened the door, bowing as the Count got out.

"Little girl, come here." He said, beckoning her with his hand. He stepped down and walked towards her and Brittany caught a glimpse of a young girl, perhaps a few years older than her, sitting in the seat next to him.

Her hair was a mess and she wore heavy makeup, smeared by either crying or sweating. Her dress was hiked up above her knees and she smoothed it down as quickly as she could when the Count left the carriage. She caught Brittany's eyes and the look on her face was one of sadness, hopelessness and pity. Brittany would never forget the way she looked at her.

The Count made his way over to Brittany. His girth was unparalleled and his odor was over powering; musky and mixed with cheap perfume. His hands were decorated with rings of all colors, shapes and sizes. His coat was made out of soft fur, embroidered with jewels. Brittany wanted to gag but she remained civil and above all, protective of her brother.

"What's your name?" He asked. Brittany remained silent. He looked over her shoulder at the dirty blond haired boy peering under Brittany's arms to catch a glance of the rich man. The boy had never seen anyone quite like him.

"Tell me, young lad, what is your lovely sister's name?"

"Her name is Brittany!" Her little brother piped up. The Count smiled in a way that made Brittany feel uneasy. She never knew that a smile could send unpleasant shivers down her spine. Her father, when he smiled, always made her feel good and her mother's smile was usually the last thing she saw before she went to bed. No matter how hard life got, they always smiled at her and it made her feel good. The count on the other hand, with his yellow teeth and rank breath made Brittany want to run away but she knew her brother wouldn't be able to keep up. Nor was it polite to run from someone so obviously above them in class. The Count reached over and patted her brother's head. He produced a coin from his pocket and handed it to the eager boy.

"Do you have a father?" He asked.

"If I tell you, will I get another coin?" Her brother asked cheekily. The Count grinned and Brittany looked away. She wanted to stop her brother from speaking. This man made her feel uncomfortable. But he was rich and giving them money.

"I will give you two if you bring your father here." He said. The boy let go of Brittany's hand and scurried off as fast as possible. Brittany wished he hadn't gone, now it was just the two of them and she didn't like that one bit. The Count turned his attention back to Brittany.

"How old are you, Brittany?" He asked. Brittany thought of her little sister, her younger brothers and the crippling hunger they faced almost every day. She forced herself to speak, hoping that she was just imagining the feeling of unease.

"Nine, sir."

"Such a lovely voice." He commented. "You should speak more often." His voice was like oil. It slid along Brittany's skin, making her feel greasy and unclean. His hand shot out and cupped her chin. Brittany let out a muffled cry of protest. He turned her head to one side, then the other, nodding and muttering to himself. Brittany felt like cattle being inspected before slaughter. Behind her, she heard heavy footsteps and hoped it was her father. It was.

"Sir, you wished to see me?" Her father ran up to them. The Count released his grip on her and Brittany ducked behind her father's legs.

"Yes, what is your name?"

"John Pierce, sir." Her father replied.

"And what do you do?" The Count continued, not making eye contact with Brittany.

"I make shoes, sir, and repair them." The Count raised an eyebrow and he stroked his chin.

"Hmm, very good, John. I will return tomorrow. I have a pair of shoes that need repairing." Her father's eyes widened and he broke into a giant smile. Brittany looked up. She hadn't seen him so excited since before they'd been kicked out of their old home.

"Yes, sir! My house is the one along that street, sir." He pointed behind him at a shabby, cobblestone street. "The sign, sir." The Count acknowledged his statement by nodding. He stepped back into the carriage and Brittany did not miss the way the young girl shrunk as far from his as possible. The driver closed the door and they were off again.

Brittany's father ran home to tell his wife the good news. Her mother almost cried tears of joy when she heard. She said that they were finally saved. Her father swung the boys around, invigorated by the prospect of a well-paying customer. Everyone, save Brittany, danced and laughed.

Using the money they earned from the Count, they bought a feast of bread and meat. The boys ate to their hearts content and did not complain once that night of hunger. Brittany on the other hand, ate very little. The Count left her with a troubling feeling, as did the young girl in the carriage next to him. The Count's touch was cold and clammy and made Brittany shudder even to remember it. She didn't want to see him at all again. But she looked around at her happy, laughing family. She'd never seen all of them so cheerful. So she discarded the feeling of foreboding and tried her best to join in the mirth.

It was early the next morning when the Count showed up with a pair of fine leather shoes. The soles were flopping off. He handed them to Brittany's father and walked in. He looked around in mild disgust at the dirty, almost rotting house.

"And you live here? I wouldn't let my servants live in a place like this." The Count sneered.

"Yes, sir. My wife, myself and our seven children live here." The Count's head snapped forward in shock.

"Seven? Goodness man, how do you manage in this house?"

"It's difficult, sir." He admitted. The Count's eyes gleamed a little after hearing that piece of information. He rubbed his chin again.

"Well, it's good then. You have something that I am interested in." He said, eying the stairs where he knew the children slept; where Brittany slept.

"Thank you sir!" John responded. The Count did not correct him. He did not mean his cobbler skills.

Over the course of several weeks, the Count visited a handful of times. Each time he brought a present for the children, whether it was candy or a toy for them to play with. The boys usually quarreled over the gifts but Brittany tried to stay as far away as possible. Whenever he showed up, she hid until he left, even if it meant staying upstairs until the evening.

Soon, however, the Count began asking specifically for Brittany. He bought her new dresses, asking her to model them. Her father, too polite to reject such gifts and not thinking much of it at first, made her wear them and parade in front of the Count. The Count in turn eyed her with hungry eyes and Brittany would feel goosebumps form on her skin.

With every visit, the gifts got more expensive and his interest in Brittany grew more obvious. Even Brittany's father began sensing the real motivation behind his need for a cobbler. However, he now could feed and clothe his children properly and he ignored his instincts. Brittany's mother, however, started becoming concerned when he started showing up without shoes to repair.

"I don't like him." Her mother said. Brittany, who had pretended to fall asleep, listened from the floor while her brothers snored around her.

"Why?" Her father asked.

"He's got evil intentions, mark my words. I don't like the way he looks at Brittany."

"He brings her gifts. So? He's a generous man." Her father reasoned.

"I've heard things, John. I heard he looks for young girls and buys them or takes them in and raises them to be his..."

"That's enough." Her father snapped, sitting down on the bed. "It's all hearsay." But his voice was unsettled and his eyebrows creased together, troubled by the thought.

"If he attempts to buy Brittany, what will you do?"

"I would never sell her. She's my daughter. How could I sell my first born child?" He almost shouted. Brittany's mother lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. John ran his fingers through his hair and sighed in frustration.

"You remember that, John." She whispered. Her father blew out the candle and Brittany listened to her parents fall asleep. She couldn't do the same. The idea of her father selling her to the Count kept her wide awake. Brittany curled into a ball and prayed that her father would not sell her.

The Count stopped showing up after that night. Without the money he paid, the children slowly grew thin again and started to cry of hunger. In front of his very eyes, John Pierce watched his daughters and sons go from happy, healthy, growing children to sad, tired and starving ones. Every passing day brought more and more hardship upon the family. Every day John waited by his work bench for the Count to show up again. But gone were the days of relative prosperity and his family fell back into despair.

* * *

It was the day before Brittany's 10th birthday. John Pierce had nothing to give to her. He couldn't even make a new pair of shoes for her and she walked around barefooted most of the time. He sat in his shop, hands covering his face as he wondered how his family was to survive. His youngest son had just taken ill and there was no way he could afford the medicine for him to get better. All seemed hopeless.

The door opened and John looked up. It was Count Baste. John all but cried in relief and he let out a happy sigh.

"Welcome back, Count." He said, his voice clearly overjoyed at the Count's presence. The Count walked in, his expression serious. "How have you been?"

"Very well." Baste replied. "And your family?"

"The little one has fallen ill. The others are starving. Tomorrow is Brittany's birthday and I haven't a thing to give to her." He sighed. The Count nodded as if expecting this situation. He approached the table and rested his arm on it.

"Then I have come at the right time." He said. John straightened. "I have a proposition for you." John smiled, the Count was finally going to hire him as a personal cobbler, he was sure of it.

"Anything, sir." He said excitedly.

"I'd like to ease your family's burdens." The count toyed with the hem of his sleeve nonchalantly. "I am offering to take your eldest, Brittany, into my home." John's face faltered and he turned pale. His mind reeled with what the Count had just said. He sat down on a stool and looked up at the Count, confused.

"C-Count I don't..."

"She will be very well taken care of, I assure you. She will be raised like a proper lady. Her life will be much more comfortable than the one she leads now."

"Why?" John blurted.

"I've taken a liking to her. She's a lovely little girl and she will grow up to be a beautiful young lady under my care." John felt his stomach turn over. His wife had been right. Count Baste did buy girls and he could guess the purpose. He opened his mouth to protest but the Count put up his hand.

"Naturally, you will be well compensated. I can pay you a year's worth of work, which, given that I pay generously, should be enough for your family for far longer than that." John shook his head. He had promised his wife he wasn't going to sell his daughter. More than that, he wasn't going to give up Brittany like this. She was his pride and joy.

"Count, she is my daughter. I cannot..."

"You said it was her birthday tomorrow? Pity. At this rate, I wonder if any of your sons will reach their tenth birthday." He said, picking at his coat. To him, it was as if he were buying a new table, or dresser. It was merely a business deal and he was going to win. "It would be a shame for them to starve to death, especially the sick one." John's head dropped as his head spun. He thought about his youngest son, as well as the rest of his children. They no longer smiled, they were always crying. He would give anything to see those smiles again.

"I will be at the auction house tomorrow. Make your decision tonight and bring her to me then. You have an entire family to take care of, remember that." He stood up straight and left the shop. John lowered his head into his hands.

That night, the youngest son took a turn for the worse. His breathing grew shallow and his fever raged. Without medicine or food, there was no telling how much longer he would last. John felt helpless as he watched his sons fight for scraps. His family was crumbling around him. He looked at Brittany who sat in the corner, eyes glazed over from being so tired and hungry.

"Brittany, come here." He said softly. Brittany got up slowly. Her arms were thing and he could see her cheekbones sticking out clearly. She made her way over to him and he lifted her and sat her on his lap. Brittany had always been quiet, she was his treasure, his princess.

He tried not to think about what the Count was going to do to her.

"Tomorrow is your birthday, Brittany." He said, feigning optimism. "Is there anything you want?"

"I want Colin to get better." Brittany responded. Her father swallowed the shame rising in his throat. Brittany looked at him with trusting, sparkling turquoise eyes. "I'd give anything to make him better." He hugged her tightly, memorizing how she felt in his arms, how thin she was, how frail she seemed. He tried to convince himself that she would be well fed, well groomed, but that didn't change what the Count really wanted.

"I love you, Brittany." He said, kissing her forehead.

"I know, Papa." She replied, hopping off his lap. She took her place beside her brothers on the floor and went quiet again.

John lay next to his wife and baby daughter. He could not sleep, turning over and over in his bed. The decision weighed heavily in his mind. He listened to Colin coughing and the groans of his children in the night. The Count was right, his children were not going to make it if he didn't do something soon. Even so, he felt hatred towards himself for what he was going to do.

When morning arrived, John woke early. His heart was heavy with the decision he had made. Quietly, he got out of bed and woke the sleeping girl.

"Papa?" She yawned.

"Come on, Brittany, it's time to go." He whispered. Brittany rubbed her eyes.

"Go where?" She asked. Her father blinked away the tears in his eyes. Brittany did not see them in the dark.

"Your birthday present." He responded. "We're going to get your birthday present." Brittany yawned again and blinked. John opened his arms to her. "I can carry you too until you wake up." Brittany opened her arms and her father lifted her and cradled her. They slowly walked down the steps and he opened the door, the creaking loud enough to wake her mother.

"John?" She asked, noticing the empty space beside her. "John?" She got up and looked around in the darkness. She got up and looked around for Brittany and noticed that she was missing. Her heart plummeted as she raced downstairs and out the door.

"John? Brittany?" She yelled but there was no one in sight.

The walk to the auction house was a long one and for most of it, Brittany slept. Her father carried her carefully until she woke. Taking the opportunity to enjoy his last moments with his precious daughter, he walked slowly and let her explore when she wanted to. His legs hurt from all the walking but even so he chased her through the fields and she laughed brightly as she ran from him.

They stopped at a stream and she pointed out the little tadpoles in the water. He stroked her hair and watched her shining smile and her genuine eyes as she looked back at him. His eyes watered and his heart sank with every step they took. He contemplated turning back but he knew if he went back now, Colin would die and his other sons might follow suit.

_For the greater good..._he thought to himself but that did nothing to console him.

When the auction house came into view, Brittany jumped up and down excitedly, pointing and exclaiming, "There it is, Papa!" He took her hand and squeezed it firmly.

"I will always love you." He said.

"I know, Papa." She replied, squeezing his hand back. Together, they walked through the giant doors and into the grand hall.

There, Brittany marveled at the expensive and beautiful items, wondering if her father was really going to buy her something here. They had no money to speak of but Brittany couldn't help but indulge in her fantasies that maybe, maybe her father had come into some money. As she walked around holding her father's hand, she was oblivious to the stares she got from the other patrons who wondered what this peasant and his child were doing at an auction like this one. Her father set his jaw and kept looking for the Count. As they searched, the auction went on in the background. Brittany marveled at the expensive items.

"One day," she promised. "I'm going to marry a Lord and we'll have all of this!" Her father couldn't look her in the eye at that point. He remained silent and solemn. Something scarlet caught Brittany's attention and she walked towards it. It was a bright red, jeweled music box. She took it in her hands and wound it up. A ballerina popped out from the top and it started to play music. Her father quickly took it out of her hands and put it back. Brittany kept glancing back at it. She wanted to hear more of it but she understood that there was no way they could buy something like that. Suddenly, her father stopped walking, causing Brittany to almost run into him.

"Papa..." She asked looking up. She froze and her blood ran cold. Leering at her was Count Baste. She hid behind her father.

"You brought her after all. I knew you would." The count said, turning to her father. Brittany looked up at him, bewildered.

"Papa, what's going on?" She asked. Her father didn't respond. Instead, the Count reached into his pocket and began counting out notes. Brittany remembered to the conversation her mother had with her father and realized exactly what was happening.

"Papa, what's going on?" She asked again, tugging on his pants frantically. "Please, Papa."

"I will take very good care of you." The Count smirked. Brittany tried to take her father's hand but they were balled up so tightly that she couldn't. Panic settled in and Brittany backed away. As she turned heel to run, her father caught her arm and forced her back towards the Count.

"I'm sorry." He whispered as he pushed her towards Baste.

"No! No! I don't want to go with him! Papa, I want to go home!" Brittany began crying. Baste counted the money as her father bit back tears. "Please, Papa! Don't do this, please!" Her father struggled to keep her under control as she thrashed about. This only seemed to make the Count grin more.

"Please don't leave me, please papa, please!" She turned and grabbed her father's pants, determined not to let go.

"This is for the best." Her father said, his voice wavering. Brittany let out a cry and tears overflowed from her eyes. She hadn't done anything wrong, why was her father doing this?

"Don't leave me, papa! Don't send me away!" She pleaded, getting down on her knees.

"You have five brothers and a new sister. This man offered enough money for us to take care of your mother and your siblings. They'd die of starvation, don't you understand?" He asked. Brittany buried her face into her father's leg and held on for dear life. She didn't understand. All she wanted to do was go home. She didn't even care if she got a birthday present or not. She kept begging her father to stay or better yet, take her home. But her father kept repeating, not to convince Brittany but to convince himself with little success, that it was for the best.

"Here's your money." The Count shoved a wad of notes into her father's hands and the transaction was sealed. He stroked her hair, looking down at her for the last time. Brittany let out a loud sob as her father wrenched her arms from his leg and handed her over to the Count. She reached out for her father as he quickly disappeared into the crowd, hands covered over his ears to avoid hearing his daughter screaming for him.

"Be good!" The Count slapped Brittany across the face. The force of the blow caused every cell in her body to freeze and she stopped crying loudly. Her chest heaved in an effort to breathe. She kept hoping, praying that it was just a bad dream, that she would wake up in her house and her father would be there to reassure her that she hadn't been sold.

Brittany could still feel her father's hands stroking the top of her head. The Count had her wrist firmly in his grasp. She was abandoned. With every passing second, she resigned herself to her fate, to the fact that her father wasn't going to come bursting through the crowd and shove the notes back into the Count's face and carry Brittany home. Her eyes, once expressive, dulled. That was it. She was never going to see her family again.

"It's your birthday today, no?" He stroked her cheek and Brittany flinched. "Let me buy you a necklace, hmm? It will look beautiful on you." Brittany turned her head away from his hand. She prayed to God again, prayed that someone would save her. She looked around, trying to find anyone who had seen, who would take pity on a little girl and take her back to her father. In doing so, she made eye contact with a girl about her age, standing a few feet away. The girl had dark skin, dark hair and dark eyes. She was rich, her clothes showed that plainly and Brittany wondered what her life must've been like. She looked away and didn't notice when the girl started walking towards them.

"Miss Lopez! What a pleasure this is!" The Count's voice was unnaturally high and Brittany looked to see who he was talking to. It was the girl. Feeling ashamed that she was being sold like one of the items in the auction house, Brittany looked at her feet.

"I want to buy her." Brittany's head snapped up when she heard the sentence. The girl held out a bag, heavy with coins.

"Um...Miss, if you don't mind me saying, she's not for sale." The Count replied.

"It's my birthday. My father said I could have whatever I wanted at the auction house." Brittany allowed herself to hope. Anyone was better than the Count.

"But what would you do with her?"

"Servant girl. My own personal servant girl." Brittany could tell that the Count was uncomfortable with the scenario.

"Please, is there anything else I can do? I can offer you another servant girl, one much nicer and more obedient than this one." The Count said. Brittany looked at the girl with desperate eyes, shaking her head a little. Whether the girl noticed or not, it didn't matter.

"I want this one." The girl said, putting her foot down. Brittany almost smiled in relief but her cheek still stung and it hurt to do so. Instead, she bowed her head thankfully. A man, tall and proper with a gentle looking face walked up to them.

"Did you win, princess?" It was the same nickname that Brittany's father called her but Brittany was almost sure that this girl was an actual princess.

"No Papa, I want this girl." The girl insisted. The three of them talked it over and Brittany felt like she would faint from relief. Once the other man dropped the coin purse into the Count's hands, Brittany started crying again. Her whole body shook and she wiped her eyes. Her lungs were still petrified. She wanted to tell them to take her home, that she wanted her mother and brothers, even her father. But she couldn't get the words out. The whole ordeal had frightened her so much. The man gently ushered her towards a carriage waiting outside for them, grasping her hand firmly. His hand was warm and even though they weren't calloused like her father's, she felt safe holding that hand. Brittany got in and instantly balled up defensively. She glanced out the window and noted with a hint of despair that they were going in the opposite direction of where she lived.

"No one will hurt you." The man said. His voice was comforting and Brittany allowed herself to relax a tiny bit. She trusted this man and his daughter. They had saved her from the terrifying Count. "Will you tell us your name?" He asked. Brittany tried to speak but nothing came from her throat and her mouth wouldn't open. She shook her head. The man handed her a piece of candy and Brittany, still scared but starving, took it and ate it. She savored the sweetness, having tasted nothing like it in her life. As the ride went on, the man fell asleep and Brittany kept glancing at her actual savior, the "princess."

The girl sat up straight and proper. She had a golden hairpin in her raven hair and her skin was clean and soft. Brittany felt ashamed of being in the same carriage, knowing she must've looked so poor and dirty and she wondered what possessed her to save a pauper like her. But the girl didn't look at her and judge her, she merely observed with a curious eye.

"My name is Santana. What's yours?" The girl spoke. It was the first time she'd said anything to her directly. Brittany's fear melted the instant she heard her voice. She felt relaxed around this girl. This girl wasn't going to hurt her. She opened her mouth and found that her voice had returned.

"My name is Brittany."


	3. Prologue: Home

**Again, shoutout to my awesome beta! :D**

Duchess Lopez was puzzled, to say the least, when Santana and Duke Lopez returned from the auction with not a new necklace, or doll but a girl the same age as Santana. The girl was dressed in rags and she looked so frightened, hungry and lost.

"Go ready yourself for your party later on, Santana." The Duke suggested. Santana nodded and giggled as she ran up the stairs, her nanny and two other servants trailing her to help her out. The Duke then turned his attention to a nearby servant who was busy dusting off their expensive vases in display cases lined all up and down the hall.

"Take this one and get her properly dressed. She'll be the newest servant. Show her around and give her some assignments." He ordered. "_Small_ assignments." The servant bowed respectfully and ushered Brittany down the hallway towards the servant quarters. The Duke rubbed his head. It had been far too long a day and journey for him and he had to entertain important guests later on at the party. What he needed was a drink and possibly some sleep. The Duchess on the other hand cocked her eyebrow.

"I wasn't aware it was _that_ kind of auction." She said pointedly. The Duke looked at the artwork on display, trying not to look his wife in the eye. He knew that tone of voice and he was convinced looking at her would turn him to stone instantly.

"It wasn't. Santana bought him from Count Baste. I suppose that girl was his most recent acquisition. I don't know the details, all I know is that when I got out of the meeting, she was there, trying to buy her. I couldn't very well deny her on her birthday and for Heaven's sake, it was Count Baste. The poor girl was crying and you know what he would do." Duke Lopez sighed. At this revelation, the Duchess softened a little. She knew of the Count's reputation was well as the next person and a small part of her was proud of Santana, whether she knew what she was doing or not. But she soon returned to her proper, aloof demeanor.

"Well, as deplorable as the Count may be, I sincerely hope Santana doesn't plan on saving every street urchin who sheds a tear in her direction." She replied stiffly.

"Santana needed a personal servant anyway. Her nanny is getting too old to keep up with her. This girl will make a fine attendant to Santana, especially when she gets older."

"That will not be for years." She noted.

"Well, in any case, she is a new addition to our staff." His tone was final and the Duchess's eyes narrowed and she "hmphed" disapprovingly. However, she was not about to argue with the Duke, especially not over a "gift" that Santana had picked herself.

"Very well, I suppose we can keep her by Santana's side, doing little things like cleaning up after her. Just make sure that someone watches her, she's a child and children are always bound to get into trouble. I shudder to think that we may have another Puck on our hands." She actually shivered a little at the thought of the stable boy. The mischievous brat had released one of their prized mares and everyone spent hours trying to locate where it had run off to. The boy received a beating so bad from the stable master that he could not sit down for the rest of the night.

"She seems like a quiet girl, I don't expect any trouble from her." The Duke said.

"I sincerely hope you're right." The Duchess nodded before turning on her heels and walking away. The Duke sat down on one of the red velvet lined chairs and looked outside. He was definitely not in the mood to host a party. But the servants were down in the grand ballroom preparing, he could see them flitting in and out, carrying various items ranging from food and drink to sparkling decorations and instruments. The show, he thought to himself, must go on.

The servants, though busy, took a moment to eye the newest member. She sat at one of the long tables, wolfing down bread and gruel as if she'd never tasted anything so delicious when it was quite common amongst the servants to have that for several meals in a row. The girl was far too young to be helping them out, yet there she was.

"Where did she come from?" One woman asked.

"I heard from the Duke she came from an auction, bought from Count Baste himself!" Another whispered, the one that brought her in.

"No...you don't suppose she..."

"I heard that Miss Santana saved her from that fate!" The servant who brought her in continued. "The Duke wants to make this one Miss Santana's personal servant!" A cook laughed on his way to the kitchen.

"Miss Santana? That poor girl, she won't last a week with the young Miss yelling about how her hair isn't fixed right, or how her bow is uneven. If she can make a grown woman weep for hours, she can certainly make this girl want to run away." He sneered.

"Anne turned out fine! The Duke took pity. Besides, if Santana chose her, perhaps it was meant to be!" She argued. The cook shrugged and disappeared into the kitchen. He had a lot of cooking to do if he was to make it in time for the party.

After Brittany finished eating, the servant woman ushered her into a backroom. Beds stood bunked on top of one another and the servant showed Brittany to her new sleeping place. The bed was rumpled and lumpy but Brittany had only known the cold floor before so sleeping in a bed was a luxury that her parents only allowed on special occasions. She sat down on the mattress and looked around. There were at least a dozen beds in the long hall, if not more. She marveled at how rich the Lopez family must've been to keep all those servants.

"And here are your clothes." Noel, the female servant brought over the smallest set of garments that she could find. "Put them on, we have a lot of work to do." Brittany did as she was told, even though all she wanted to do was go home to her family. She figured she could bring that up later, at a more opportune moment. She put on the petticoat, dress and apron. Even though they were the smallest size, they were still too long for Brittany and Noel ended up pinning her sleeves higher on her arm and folding the apron into a third.

"Come, I'll show you around the house." Noel said, motioning for Brittany to follow. The girl hopped off her bed and folded her clothes, setting them down near the pillow. She scrambled to keep up with Noel and nearly tripped several times on the hem of her apron.

The house was nothing short of magnificent. They walked through the grand ball room, ablaze with activity as the sun set in the distance. Noel showed Brittany the library, where the room was filled from wall to wall and ceiling to floor with books that no one had enough time to read. There was the music room, with a grand piano gracing the center of the room, and glass windows over-looking much of the courtyard.

The two of them toured through much of the house and Brittany felt overwhelmed by its size. She felt she could get lost so easily and so she stuck close to Noel. Noel found the child charming. Brittany would look around with wide eyes at every new sight. The older woman found herself reminiscing about the first time she entered the Lopez house a little less than a decade ago. Her previous station was less than half the size of the Lopez estate. Much like the young girl following her, she felt daunted by how wealthy the family was. Beyond that, the family had an air of natural nobility and grace. And they treated their servants with dignity. The servants, though poor, never starved had everything they needed. The Duke made sure that they were fed, clothed and housed properly.

Because she was lost in thought, she wasn't paying attention when she rounded the corner. She almost ran into the Duke. When she stepped back and realized who it was, she turned pale and bowed deeply at the waist.

"I'm so sorry, Duke! Please forgive me!" She said. The Duke blinked in surprise. He had half a mind to scold her for being so careless but his gaze fell upon the small blond girl, eyes still darting around the room with her mouth open in awe. He cleared his throat to catch her attention.

"You know, servants do not look dignified with their mouths hanging open." He commented. Brittany faced forward, looked at Noel who was still bowed down and followed suit, bowing before the Duke. Despite his ability to force down a smile, he couldn't help it and his mustache twitched trying to fight back a boisterous laugh at Brittany.

"Ahem." He coughed. The two stood up straight again. "My daughter, as I have been hearing, has been demanded that her personal servant go up there right away to help out." Noel looked down at Brittany who had just begun to realize that the Duke was talking about her.

"Of course!" Noel answered for her. She grabbed Brittany by the hand and led her up the long staircase towards Santana's room. The Duke watched the little girl go up, shaking his head and smiling.

In her room Santana twirled around in her pink dress. Two servants watched over her, rolling their eyes every time Santana wanted to change what she was wearing. She was in her fifth dress when the door opened and Brittany and Noel walked in. Santana turned to face the newcomers.

"You can leave." She said, waving her hand at the two servants standing by her bed. They left quickly, mouthing a quick "thank you" to the other two. Brittany looked sheepishly at Santana, her gaze more often focused on the floor. She'd never seen a dress so beautiful in her life, much less a dozen of them lined up on the bed.

"The Duke said you were calling for us?" Noel asked.

"Not you." Santana snapped. "Her." She pointed at Brittany who immediately ducked behind Noel. The older woman cleared her throat.

"She's still new. I don't think she knows how to do anything yet."

"Well then teach her!" Santana remarked. "My party is in two hours and I haven't even picked out the dress I am going to wear!" She turned around, the back of her dress unlaced. Noel walked over and attempted to lace her up.

"No, her!" Santana insisted. Noel had no choice. The little Miss was a handful and she always got her way. She motioned for Brittany to attempt it. Brittany, who had never had to do something as complex as lacing up someone else's dress, looked at Noel with a terrified expression. She placed her hand on Santana's back and pulled the strings.

"Too tight!" Santana said. "Pull them back gently." Noel almost died of shock. She blinked a little to make sure that the girl standing in front of her was still Santana, and not someone who had magically appeared in her place. Brittany pulled back a little gentler but stopped when she didn't know what the next step was.

"Place one on top of the other." Santana instructed. This time, Noel had to take a step back. If it had been anyone else, Santana would've screamed them out of the room. But here she was, being not just patient, but helpful to this little girl who didn't even know how to tie a dress up in the back. She watched as Brittany followed Santana's instructions and Santana talked her through it. She didn't raise her voice once, not even when Brittany messed up three times in the same step. She merely talked her through.

By the time Brittany was done, in at least quadruple the time it would've taken for Noel to tie her dress up, Noel was convinced that somehow, when she blinked, Santana had been possessed. She turned around, admiring herself in the mirror. The bow was off center and uneven but Santana merely nodded.

"That'll be all." She said, gesturing for them to leave. Noel took Brittany by the hand and led her outside as fast as possible, not sure if Santana would notice that her bow was not done right. When they exited, Noel looked down at the blond. Brittany bit her lip and fidgeted. She missed her chance to ask Santana if she could go home. She glanced up at Noel who was still stunned by what she had just witnessed. Santana Lopez was never nice to anyone but her nanny. Any other servant who tried to help her, to attend to her needs no matter how good they were at it, Santana would yell at them for the smallest things. Somehow, this little blond girl had managed to make Santana Lopez calm and, hell must've frozen over, patient.

While Noel pondered this miracle, Brittany slipped out of her grasp. She quickly opened the door to Santana's room and before the other servant woman noticed, slipped right inside. By the time she realized that their newest member had gotten away and worse, gone into Santana's room, it was too late. Noel chased after her but she knew exactly what was going to happen.

Except she was wrong.

Brittany raced inside and dropped to her knees.

"I want to go back to my family." She pleaded. "I want to go home." She looked up at the stunned Santana with tears fresh in her eyes. Santana stared, bewildered. In all of her ten years and eight that she remembered, none of the servants had ever asked for anything. The last one who came charging in unannounced was thrown into the street. But this one, hardly any older than she was, was begging her for something.

"I am so sorry, Miss Santana." Noel apologized, picking Brittany up.

"I just want to go home!" Brittany yelled, struggling to escape the woman's grasp.

"Set her down." Santana ordered.

"Please, Miss, she doesn't know what she's doing. Please...don't..." Santana held up a hand to silence her.

"Tell one of our messengers to go into town and find her family." Santana went on. This time, Noel's jaw dropped unabashedly. She dropped Brittany back onto the ground.

"M-miss?" Noel asked. Santana folded her arms crossly.

"Did you not hear me the first time? I said, go find her family! Where do they live?" Brittany wiped her eyes.

"In town, Miss." She replied. "My father's a cobbler."

"Get to it!" Santana repeated to Noel. The older woman bowed deeply and walked briskly out of the room, forgetting that she was supposed to take Brittany with her. Santana looked at Brittany up and down.

"Why do you want to go home? Isn't it much nicer here?" She asked.

"It's prettier, but I miss my papa, and my mama, and my brothers." Brittany answered. Santana rolled her eyes.

"But I want you to stay here." Santana said. "And I always get what I want."

"I miss home." Brittany admitted. Santana frowned.

"I paid a lot of money for you."

"I can pay you back! I'll beg extra hard on the streets." Brittany offered. Santana shook her head and waved her hand.

"I don't want money from a poor person." She replied in mild disgust. Brittany looked down at her feet sadly. Santana heaved a sigh. "Fine. If we find your family, you can go home." Brittany's head turned up and she smiled brightly.

"Really?" She asked, grinning ear to ear.

"Yes. I keep my word." Santana said. It felt good to see the girl smile and Santana couldn't pin point why. She was uncharacteristically nice to this girl and it puzzled her as much as it did Noel. She couldn't help it though. Perhaps it was because this girl was her age. No, so was Quinn and she harbored a little distaste for the girl. Maybe it was because they shared a birthday, yes that was it. It was this girl's birthday as much as it was Santana's. And even though Santana's birthday was much more important in her opinion, Brittany deserved some sort of gift.

"Help me tie my hair up in a ribbon." Santana commanded, trying to return to her normal self. Brittany quickly walked over and picked out a matching blue ribbon to go with her powder blue dress. Santana stood straight up and Brittany, a little shorter than Santana, had to reach up to tie her hair back. Santana again instructed her how to tie a bow and this time, it came out a little bit better. Santana admired herself in the mirror.

"Good." She commented. "Now, you're dismissed. Go help out the other servants." No sooner had she said that when Noel walked in, a little out of breath from rushing down the steps and back up.

"The messenger said he would set out right away." She panted. Brittany all but squealed in joy, clapping her hands together.

"Thank you, thank you!" Brittany said and then did something that would've gotten her thrown out immediately. She hugged Santana out of sheer happiness. Noel gasped and placed a hand over her mouth and Santana stiffened, unused to such close contact with anyone, even her parents. Brittany skipped out of the room, having been dismissed not too much earlier. Santana, still rigid, looked on wide eyed.

"I am so sorry, Miss. She's new, she doesn't...I will teach her the proper etiquette." Noel apologized. Santana merely nodded and Noel left, chasing after her. When Santana came to her senses, she realized just how long it had been since anyone had hugged her like that.

The party was magnificent. Magicians from all over the country came to entertain the guests with the most advanced of magic tricks. The orchestra played and food lined the long tables extending from one end of the hallway to the other. Quinn stayed by her mother's side for most of the time while her older sister chatted up the young men in the room. When Santana entered, everyone clapped. Those that were seated, got up and applauded. Santana felt like royalty as she walked down the steps. It was appropriate then, that her mother came over with the King and Prince in tow after she descended and entered the main floor.

"Santana, you remember his Majesty, don't you? And the young Prince Finnian?" Santana curtsied politely. The King bowed slightly and so did the Prince.

"Happy birthday, Miss." The Prince did what he was supposed to and kissed Santana's hand. Santana giggled and Duchess Lopez made a mental note to teach her the proper way to charm a prince.

"Well, I hope you two get along quite well." The Duchess said, looking from the prince, in all his awkwardness to Santana, still getting used to being in front of loyalty. They'd met only a few times before, mostly for a few seconds and from a distance. But if the Duchess could help it, she would propel Santana right up to the throne. She just needed to groom Santana properly.

"Politics aside, my darling." The Duke said, coming up behind them. The Kind guffawed heartily.

"Quite so! It's the young Miss's birthday, she should feel free to do whatever she wants." His Majesty replied. The Duchess frowned and forced a smile.

"Of course." She said respectfully. "If you'll excuse me then." She disappeared into the crowd to fetch herself a drink, hoping that Santana and Prince Finn would get along by themselves. But the minute she left, Santana excused herself to join Quinn by the magician. Quinn looked over at her, not amused by the antics Santana's mother initiated.

"Mother says you're trying to get the Prince to court you." Quinn stated boldly. Santana laughed.

"Prince Finn? Of course not! He has no manners at all. Did you see the way he was eating? Like a poor person!" She sneered. The magician's hat burst into smoke and everyone watching clapped. Santana looked around and noticed Brittany standing with the other servants, waiting for someone to order them around. Brittany looked thoroughly uncomfortable.

"What did you buy at the auction?" Quinn inquired.

"Nothing important." Santana lied, too distracted by Brittany's shifting to notice. She wanted to go over to the girl and command her to look cheerful. It was Santana's birthday and she wanted everyone to look happy. But Quinn took a step to the side and blocked her view.

"What did you buy?" She asked again.

"A personal servant." Santana said, craning her neck to watch Brittany but she was gone when Santana finally looked again.

"A servant? You already have enough!" Quinn gasped.

"It's different. She waits on me specifically." Santana explained, a little disappointed that she could no longer see her investment. Quinn shook her head.

"If you say so. The present I got you is much better than any servant." She said. "You'll never guess what it is." Santana knew exactly what it was.

"A dress? A scarf?" She said. Quinn pouted.

"How did you guess?" She demanded. "You peeked, didn't you?" Santana shook her head, not really wanting to get into this with Quinn. She was far more interested in where Brittany went but no matter where she looked, she couldn't find the small blond girl. Quinn touched her arm.

"Are you even listening?" Quinn hissed.

"No." Santana replied. "I'm bored, I'm going over to the orchestra." Quinn gaped in disbelief at her bluntness and humphed, turning her head up.

"Fine, I didn't want to talk to you anyway." She lied. Santana brushed past her and walked towards where she saw Brittany last. When she got there, she looked around. There was no one there.

"Where did she go?" Santana wondered. She wanted to order her new servant around some more. It was amusing to say the least, to watch the girl scramble to do what she was told to. It amused Santana and it was far better than any present she was ever going to get. First, however, she needed to find her servant so she could command her to do the most mundane and trivial of tasks.

As the night wore on, Santana's patience grew smaller and smaller, as did the guests. Many of them left around eleven and only a few people stayed, mostly to drink and eat some more. Quinn left a little early, insisting that she was bored, tired and wanted to go home. Her father and mother didn't object, not wanting to see Santana's mother push Santana towards the prince every chance she got. The King and Prince actually left even earlier as the Prince started sneezing and the King, paranoid about his son dying, excused the two of them and went home.

Santana finally located Noel, yawning by one of the tables.

"Where's Brittany?" Santana demanded. Noel immediately snapped to attention.

"She left." Noel answered.

"Where?"

"I don't know. The messenger came by just a few minutes ago and whispered something into her ear. She looked very upset, I don't think he managed to find her family." Noel replied. Santana frowned. She could only imagine that Brittany was off somewhere crying. It upset her and she had no idea why. Perhaps it was because she had invested in this girl and she wanted her to always be cheerful. After all, Brittany was Santana's servant, what wasn't there to be cheerful about?

"Fine." Santana said, turning on her heel. She climbed up the steps to get a better look at the grand ballroom. She couldn't see a short blond girl and so she reasoned she must've been in the servant quarters.

For the first time, Santana ventured there. It was dirty and the hem of her dress was quickly turning into a dark brown.

"Servant?" She called out at first. When no one responded, she thought that maybe she wasn't being specific enough. "Brittany?" Still no answer. She looked all around the house for the blond, even checking in her own room and under the bed in case the girl had somehow hid herself there.

"Santana, it's time for you to go to bed." The Duke startled her when he called out her name in a particularly dark hallway. Santana shook her head.

"I lost my servant girl!" She said. The Duke gathered her up in his arms.

"She'll turn up, I promise." He reassured her. "Look at you...you're all dirty. Let's take a bath, shall we?"

"I don't want to! It's my birthday, I don't want to so I don't have to!" Santana insisted. The Duke smiled.

"Very well, but tomorrow morning will not be your birthday and I'll make sure to get your nanny to give you a good scrubbing." He said, carrying her to her room. Santana knew she needed to play along. The Duke set her down and the servants came in and helped her into her night gown. The Duke walked in along with the Duchess and they kissed her on the forehead.

"Good night, my darling." The Duke said.

"Good night, my soon to be princess." The Duchess smiled. Santana feigned a yawn and closed her eyes. Her mother and father closed the door and she waited until she could no longer hear their footsteps. As soon as everything was quiet, Santana snuck out. She raced down the steps as quietly as possible and went back into the servant's quarters. She looked around.

"Brittany?" She hissed.

"Miss Santana?" Noel said, sitting up from her bed. The other servants were fast asleep. Noel had stayed awake because she could not find Brittany and had spent the better half of the hour searching.

"Is my servant girl here?" Santana asked.

"It's past your bedtime, miss." Noel noted. "And no, I haven't seen her anywhere. Let's get you to bed." She got up off of her mattress.

"No." Santana commanded. "I am going out to look for her."

"But Miss..."

"I can have you thrown out of here as fast as I want. Go back to bed." She said. Noel didn't know what to do. It was a no win situation for her. If she defied Santana's orders, Santana would put in one word to her father and she would be back on the streets. However, if something were to happen to Santana, she'd still be thrown out. But by the time Noel came to the conclusion that maybe she should put Santana to bed, the girl was gone.

Santana wandered outside. It was the only place she could think of that she hadn't looked. She walked through the gardens in the crisp spring air. It was a little humid and crickets were singing in the grass. Fireflies lit up the garden as she walked through them, trying to locate Brittany. She would've been lying if she said she wasn't terrified of the dark but knowing where her birthday present was took more importance than her fright.

"Brittany?" She whispered. Suddenly, she heard a small sob. She looked around in the dark, her eyes making full use of the bright moon overhead. She saw a figure slumped over on one of the benches.

"Brittany?" She called again. The figure looked up and Santana recognized the blue eyes as they sparkled in the night. Santana quickly walked over. "Why are you here? You've cost me a lot of trouble looking for you tonight."

"I'm sorry." Brittany's voice cracked and Santana knew instantly that she had been crying. Without trying to seem too worried, she took a seat next to her.

"Why aren't you with the other servants?" She asked, trying to strike a balance between apathetic and caring. Brittany let out a low cry and Santana sat there awkwardly. Brittany eventually inhaled deeply.

"My family's gone." She sobbed. Santana's shoulders slumped.

"Gone?"

"The...the messenger told me...that he found my house. No one was in there and the neighbors say that they saw my family...they saw them leave in the afternoon. They left everything there and...and they just left me." She broke down in tears again. "My papa and mama left me."

"Maybe they didn't want you." Santana said and immediately regretted it. Brittany let out a loud, choked sound and covered her face, shaking with tears.

"I want my mama! I want my papa!" Brittany wept.

"Well I want you. That's why I bought you." It wasn't the comforting words that a normal person would've wanted to hear but Santana didn't know how to stop someone from feeling bad. She'd never had to do anything like it in the past. Brittany kept crying however.

"Stop crying!" Santana ordered but that also didn't have the anticipated effect. Eventually, Santana just stood in front of her. She couldn't stand it when someone was unhappy on her birthday, even though it was past midnight. She sighed and looked around. Suddenly, she remembered that it was also Brittany's birthday.

"I know why you're really sad." Santana said. This seemed to catch Brittany's attention and she stopped crying a little. Santana reached up into her hair and undid the ribbon. She took it, folded it and handed it to Brittany.

"You didn't get a birthday present." Santana explained. "That's why you're unhappy." Brittany took the ribbon and looked at it. It was soft, obviously made of the best silk money could buy. She looked back up at Santana. Even though the rich girl was wrong about why she was unhappy, Brittany understood that she was simply trying to make her feel better.

"I miss my mama and papa." Brittany whispered again.

"Well...now you have a birthday present." Santana said as if it was the solution to her sadness. Brittany looked down sadly.

"I want to go home." She said.

"You are home." Santana replied. "Your mama and papa left you so this is your home now." Brittany looked up at her, holding the ribbon delicately in her hand. By now she'd stopped crying with the exception of a hiccup every now and again. They regarded each other and their surroundings quietly.

"I'm tired. We're going inside." Santana stated. Brittany nodded numbly, too distraught to argue. She wanted to run back into town, to find her mama and papa and have them tell her that they loved her. She should've been home, taking care of her brothers and baby sister and helping around the house. Instead, she was sitting in a garden on a strange estate with no one who cared about her.

Except Santana cared. Whether she really did or not, whether she saw Brittany as a servant or whether she saw her as a little girl just like her, it didn't matter to Brittany. She was looking at someone who had saved her from the count, who had helped her attempt to locate her mother and father and who was now giving her birthday gifts. Even if she was too young to understand why, or that for the moment, Santana was only concerned about making sure her birthday present didn't run off, it still made her feel a little better that someone was being nice.

"I'm cold. Let's go." Santana ordered again. Brittany stood up and wiped her nose and eyes on her sleeve. Santana wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"I didn't get you a birthday gift." She noted. Santana shrugged.

"You are my birthday gift. You're my servant girl." She said. Brittany shook her head. Santana had given her a beautiful silk ribbon, she had to give her something. She reached into the bushes and picked a yellow daisy.

"Here." She said, handing the flower to Santana. Santana almost laughed aloud at how cheap the present was. It had been picked from a garden, her very own so technically it belonged to her anyway.

"That's mine." Santana said.

"I'm giving it to you, of course it's yours." Brittany replied, confused at what Santana meant.

"No, I mean, it's from my garden, so it's mine anyway." Brittany frowned.

"I thought it was your papa's garden."

"No it's..." Santana was too tired to argue with the girl who didn't understand that _clearly_ everything on the estate belonged to her. She was her father's daughter and if her father owned it, so did she. That was how Santana reasoned it. But it was late and she yawned, taking the flower without even thanking Brittany.

"Let's go back inside." Santana said. "Let's go home." Brittany looked up at the giant house with the long winding path leading back up to the porch with the marble pillars and giant glass windows. Never in her dreams did she imagine someone telling her that this was going to be her home. Yet here Santana was, calling it just that without batting an eye. Brittany gripped the ribbon tightly.

"Home." She said, nodding. Santana led and Brittany followed and they parted ways. Santana went to her bedroom where she fell asleep quickly. Brittany on the other hand, looked down at the ribbon and then back outside at the moon. She said a quick prayer, asking to see her mother and father again before tucking the ribbon under her pillow and falling asleep for the first night in her strange new home.


	4. End Prologue

**Author's note: Thanks to jugstheclown for being the most awesome beta ever! Enjoy!  
**

When Brittany awoke, she felt groggy and sore all over. She wasn't used to sleeping on a bed, almost all her life she spent sleeping on the floor next to her brothers. When she remembered where she was, and that she was not near her family, she curled up into a ball and instinctively reached under the pillow to grasp the ribbon for comfort. It was a hazy, cool morning. The sun hadn't risen yet but the grey glow in the horizon signaled that it was time for the servants to get up and begin their morning chores. Brittany was the first to wake up given that she was in unfamiliar territory and she sat up. It was the first morning she awoke alone. One by one, the servants came to life, stirring from under their light covers, some cracking their bones, some groaning as they rolled out of bed. Brittany propped herself up on her hands and searched the room for a familiar and friendly face. When she located Noel, she hopped out of bed, still dressed as she had been the previous night, and went directly to her side.

"It's your first day of real work." Noel yawned, putting a hand delicately over her mouth.

"I want my mother." Brittany whispered. Noel looked down. She remembered the previous night, how the messenger came back looking rather somber. He whispered something into Brittany's ear and before Noel could react, Brittany ran off. She would've given chase had a guest not called her over that very minute. But judging by the fact that she was still there crying for her mother, things must not have gone well.

"We have much to do." She said.

"I want to go home." Brittany began bawling as she clutched Noel's hand firmly. Noel bent down, trying to comfort her. She tried to remember what another woman had done when she had been in Brittany's place all those years ago. She remembered crying, though with much less control than Brittany had. The older woman pulled her to her feet.

"Listen to me." Noel said sternly. The authority in her voice echoed in the small room. Brittany stopped crying. "We are your family now, understand."

"But I want my father! And my mother!" Brittany sobbed.

"I understand. But you must listen to me, your parents are no longer with you, understand? They are gone now and you have to grow up and accept that." Noel explained. She tried to remember what it was that the older woman had said to her to make her stop crying. When she remembered, her voice faded a little.

"The Duke..." She felt bad as the words escaped her mouth. It was merely giving the girl false hope. "Every so often, the Duke picks some of the servants and he will give them the day off. Many of us go into town to buy items, to walk around and entertain ourselves. It is a welcome break. The Duke says that happy servants mean a happy home. If you work hard, and if you stop being sad, he'll pick us! We can go into town and you can look for your parents then." Brittany wiped her eyes.

"You mean it?" She asked.

"Yes. But first we must complete our chores. The Duke does not let idle servants loose." Brittany brightened up immediately and stood up straight.

"Anything!" She said. Noel smiled but it was empty. It was the same thing that the older woman had told her when she was younger. She worked as hard as she could. It was a lie of course, a white lie that the older woman had told to make the pain go away and make her focus on something else. Eventually, Noel found out that her parents had died not long after she'd been sent away to work. She looked down at the young girl who was all but bouncing in place. It would be the same. Brittany would work hard every day, put on a smile no matter what happened. It was for her own good, so that she didn't dwell on the sadness. It was worth it, it was worth anything to give this little girl a little bit of hope.

"Yes." Noel said quietly. "Let us begin."

Together, they got their cleaning supplies, duster, a brush, cloths, and started in the library. Every morning they were to clean the visible surfaces so that any unannounced visitors would see the place in its prime. When they finished with the visible surfaces, it was then scaling the ladders, cleaning the lamps, filling them with oil again among other things. Brittany, whose hands were calloused from helping her mother do chores whenever she had time, fell right into place. She was quick and energetic, something Noel had outgrown. Just seeing the little girl, dusting here, polishing there all while smiling genuinely, made Noel feel much younger.

Brittany began humming to herself, a tune that Noel recognized. It was one of the songs that all children sang as a kid. Brittany heard Noel join in and she skipped around the room. It was lighter outside by the time they finished two rooms, with the servants hard at work doing the others. Duke Lopez was the first of his family to awake. He walked downstairs, the servants were busy with their morning cleaning duties. As he descended, every servant he passed by bowed low and said a "Good morning, Duke." In turn, the Duke would nod his head in acknowledgment. But something was different than usual. He heard music coming from the library and so he quietly walked in.

Brittany and Noel were hand in hand dancing and singing around the room, largely neglecting their duties. But they looked so happy that the Duke couldn't help but smile upon seeing their silly antics. They linked both their hands and twirled in a circle several times until Noel looked up to see the Duke staring at them. He immediately adjusted his expression to a more serious one, albeit anyone who looked closely could instantly tell that he was forcing it.

"Duke!" Noel bowed as deeply as she could. He'd caught her awkwardly twice in less than a day. Brittany bowed too, but dropped her duster and bent to pick it up. The Duke made a muffled choking sound, trying too hard not to laugh. Noel on the other hand, was terrified. She waited with her eyes squeezed shut.

"Carry on." He said simply and moved onto the next room. Noel's eyes opened in shock and her mouth fell agape. Brittany picked up her duster and continued daintily patting the corners of each shelf. The Duke finally smiled as soon as he was out of sight. It was certainly more lively around the estate with the new addition.

When the morning chores were done, Noel and Brittany decided to walk through the gardens. It was a warm morning and the flowers were in full bloom. Brittany stared in awe at the magnificent garden, perfectly groomed with a brilliant variety of flowers. She'd only been here during the night but in the day time, when everything was literally abuzz with activity, it seemed like she'd stepped into one of her mother's fairy tales.

She looked around, half expecting to see a prince galloping up the path towards them. Instead, she noticed a small boy leading a white pony around the yard. He had a scowl on his face and a cut cheek. He led the horse around while his other hand was in his trouser pocket. He slumped forward, muttering to himself.

"He's a rotten one, that Noah." Noel leaned down and whispered. "You would do well to stay away from that one."

"Why?" Brittany asked, not taking her eyes off of him. He looked sour, no doubt, but he reminded Brittany of her brothers and he was the only one she'd seen that was around her age besides Santana.

"I heard just last week he was given three lashings for stealing food from the Duke's pantry. The Duke is a saint, bless his soul, which is the only reason I believe that Noah hasn't been thrown out on the streets." Brittany kept watching. The pony seemed just as disgruntled as the boy, perhaps it was because it was because of his company, but the animal snorted and stomped and the boy jerked the reins a little too hard. All of a sudden, the pony reared, lashing out at the boy, kicking him in the arm. Puck fell to the ground, crying out in pain. The pony, frightened and angry, began running away. Puck clutched his arm and wailed loudly. His arm was limp, broken from the kick.

Noel gasped and clasped a hand over her mouth. She looked down at Brittany but was startled to find that she was running up the path towards Puck. The stable master rushed to his side, with the pony turning back and charging right towards them. Brittany stood up and looked the animal in the eyes and it stopped its gallop. She walked directly towards it and just as it was about to run away again, Brittany grabbed the reins and jumped on.

It wasn't the most brilliant of moves. The pony immediately took off with Brittany clutching both the reigns and mane for support.

"Please stop!" She pleaded into its ear. It reared again in an attempt to buck her off but she clung on. Puck and the stable master stood up, watching in fascination as the girl held on valiantly, longer than anyone else would've thought possible. It wasn't a big animal, but it was just as feisty as one.

"The little miss can ride..." The stable master said, his mouth agape. Eventually, the animal tired itself out and Brittany led it back towards them. The stable master led it back to the stable, holding the reins firmly in one hand and carrying Puck in the other. Brittany wiped the sweat off her face and Noel quickly reattached herself to her side.

"You're a trouble maker, aren't you?" Noel sighed. "Heavens, my heart..." She fanned herself with one hand and gripped Brittany's apron, as if the girl was going to take off at any moment. Brittany shrugged.  
"That was fun. Do you think I can do it again?" She asked.

"At the expense of my poor complexion? I think not." Noel said. "This has been far too much excitement for one day. The thing could've trampled you!" Brittany giggled, her eyes gleaming far too pleasantly for Noel. "Come on, you little tramp, let's get you back inside." She ruffled Brittany's hair affectionately and the two of them headed back towards the estate.

Unbeknownst to both of them, the Duchess was watching, her eyebrows raised. She and her husband were walking through the garden from the opposite end and stumbled upon the scene. The Duke's mustache twitched, the action not escaping his wife's notice. She knew that when it twitched, he was fighting back a laugh. She fanned herself, the action her habit when she tried to be disapproving.

"She may have her uses." Was all the Duchess said, walking ahead of her husband. The Duke could tell, even the ice cold Duchess was warming up to the new girl.

Santana, far from being amused, stormed around the entire mansion looking for her servant girl. She refused help from all of the other servants but they knew they would get in trouble with the Duke for leaving the little girl alone.

"Where is she?" Santana yelled. Her hair was still a mess, she was still in her sleepwear and she was still tired and cranky.

"We don't know, Miss." The two servants replied.

"Find her! Don't just follow me like dogs! I bought her for a reason!" Just as Santana screamed this, Brittany and Noel walked through the giant glass doors, laughing to themselves. Santana put her hands on her hips and glared at them.

"Good morning miss." Noel bowed and Brittany followed suit.

"Where were you this morning?" Santana demanded of Brittany. Brittany glanced up at the older woman for guidance.

"Miss, we were cleaning..."

"Did I ask you? I asked her!" Santana said. "You are supposed to be my personal servant, yet when I wake up, when I rung the bell, you did not come as I called."

"I...I was cleaning." Brittany echoed Noel.

"Cleaning? You are supposed to be helping _me_. Look at me, I am not dressed, nor my hair properly combed and cleaned."

"I-I'm sorry." Brittany stuttered, bowing again. Santana waved her hand.

"Come on then." She said. Brittany and Noel chased her up the stairs and into her room. When they got there, Santana already had outfits lined up. She held her arms out. Brittany looked at Noel again, confused.

"Undress me already." Santana said impatiently. Brittany undid the ribbons on the night gown and slipped her out of the sleeves. Santana regarded her choices of clothes to wear.

"I want...something white." She said, pointing to her white lace dress and matching cap. Brittany obediently picked it up and held it out. Santana stepped into the dress and Brittany did up the ribbons, still rather messily. It took a few interruptions from Noel to finally get Santana properly done and fit for her parents to see. The Duchess was never pleased with messy ribbon.

It took a lot longer for Santana to get dressed but oddly enough, she was patient about it. The Duchess, on the other hand, grew tired of waiting. She walked into Santana's room.

"Darling, what in Heaven's name is taking so long? Your breakfast is getting cold." She then saw Noel and Brittany. "Oh."

"So sorry, Duchess." Noel bowed. "Brittany is still learning..."  
"I don't care about your excuses." The Duchess waved her hand. "If she cannot get the job done, then there simply is no use for her at this estate. We can't have Santana late because her servant doesn't know how to get her job done right." Brittany cowered behind Noel. This woman's demeanor was in stark contrast to the Duke, whose heart seemed big enough for the both of them.

"I think she should move in next door with my nanny." Santana said. The Duchess, not one to balk openly, reserved her reaction to a mere harsh stare.

"Santana..."

"I take full responsibility." She said firmly. The Duchess blinked. Were her ears deceiving her? She'd never heard Santana say anything like that before. Take responsibility? The girl wouldn't take responsibility for getting up in the morning and here she was, taking responsibility for a whole person? The whole thing baffled the Duchess. She recognized that something was different in Santana the minute that she brought a girl home.

There was never any arguing with Santana. All the Duchess had to remind herself was that Santana was headed for the throne. In the mean time, it would hardly hurt for her to take on a little responsibility.

"Do as you wish." The Duchess said, waving her hand and exiting. "But do come down soon, I hate to see your breakfast get spoiled."

When Santana brought Brittany into the room next to her, they were met with much skepticism. The nanny eyed the new girl with just as much curiosity as everyone else on the estate. She looked from the young servant girl back to Santana, who looked almost proud.

"And this is to be your new servant girl?" The nanny asked skeptically. The old woman knew she wasn't up for chasing Santana around anymore, not since she slipped on the steps. She had to walk with a cane most days and her role was to patrol the halls, making sure the servants weren't slacking off when they needed to be busy. But, she concluded, at least she knew what she was doing. This girl seemed hardly old enough to take care of herself, much less the daughter of the Duke.

"I will work hard." Brittany vowed. The older woman got to her feet slowly and inspected the girl. She poked and prodded with fingers and her cane and clicked her tongue.

"You are far too young to be doing anything but scrubbing the floors and washing the crockery." The nanny concluded.

"But she is _my _servant. I picked her out." Santana insisted.

"Little Miss, in all my years, I have never seen a personal servant so young. You need someone who knows how to weave the most intricate of ribbons into your hair, you need someone who can carry a tray of food up to your room without spilling a drop of water. This _child_ has none of those qualities."

"Then teach her." Santana said. "She will be staying in your room from now on, I expect you to teach her how to be the best personal servant I can have."

"Miss..."  
"That's final!" Santana ordered. The nanny walked over. She was old, yes, and she had been Santana's nanny, but that in of itself entitled a little respect.

"Miss, you will not talk to your elders that way." The nanny said angrily. Santana bit her lip. Usually she would merely yell for her mother or father and they would deal with the situation. But she knew that angering her nanny would only be detrimental to getting Brittany the instruction she needed. Santana fought down her pride, something she never would've done in the past, and curtseyed politely.

"My apologies." She said. The old woman and Noel looked at each other in disbelief.

"Pardon?" The nanny said.

"I apologize." Santana said. "I just...I would very much like it if you could teach Brittany. I don't care that she is young, I am willing to make small sacrifices, even if it means a little less water in my cup in the morning so that she doesn't spill." The nanny looked up at Noel, her eyes demanding an explanation. Santana smiled sweetly. "If you'll excuse me, I must go to breakfast." She said, taking full opportunity to leave Brittany with her nanny without her nanny being able to say no. The nanny looked back down at Brittany.

"She's been like that ever since this one came in." Noel said. The nanny regarded Brittany again. She then broke out into laughter and shook her head.

"Remarkable." She stated simply. "In all my years...I never though I'd see the young Miss apologize to anyone. Are you really the catalyst for this?" Brittany wasn't so sure why the two of them were eying her with such awe. She knew no other Santana than the present one so she couldn't have known that the young Miss Lopez had changed so suddenly, and so drastically, that it was almost as if she had been possessed.

Under the strict tutelage of Santana's nanny, Brittany learned very quickly. Though the teaching methods were a little unorthodox, namely a cane to the back of the legs if she didn't do something correctly. Late at night, when everyone else was asleep, Brittany would take out the ribbon that Santana had given to her and practice tying bows until she got it right.

Brittany was a welcome addition to the staff. She was friendly, optimistic and naïve, a breath of fresh air to the jaded staff that currently served the Lopez estate. She livened up the place. The Duke found that every time he saw her, his steps weren't as heavy and his mustache twitched constantly in an effort to fight down laughter. The Duchess, though she never really warmed to Brittany, deeming her inadequate for the future Queen, didn't complain as much as the days wore on. The girl learned fast enough and she made an honest effort, which was more than most children her age, Santana included. Eventually, the Duchess acknowledged her presence and once threw a backhanded compliment, mentioning that "had it been anyone else, they would've been kicked out long ago."

It was difficult, and Brittany never had any free time. She waited on Santana night and day. If the Miss wanted water, she would get up and pour her a glass. If she wanted to go out for a stroll in the pouring rain, Brittany would be there, holding the umbrella. But the young Miss Lopez never abused or yelled at Brittany like she did with the previous servants. More often than not, she would instruct Brittany just to watch the girl race down the hall at top speed to satisfy her Mistress's wish. It was entertaining for Santana. She liked Brittany, though she never said it. They were from two opposite ends of the spectrum. Santana Lopez, groomed to be the next Queen (if her mother got her way) and Brittany Pierce, bought from the streets for less than the price of a fine thoroughbred horse.

It was beneath her to become friends with her servant. Friendly, yes, but never friends. Her mother warned her that she would only pick up bad habits from people of lower class but she didn't feel the same excitement when she was with Quinn than when she watched Brittany struggle to please Santana. She never understood why Brittany worked so hard, she didn't know about the lie that Noel had fed her.

"You know you don't have to run to get everything, right?" Santana asked her one day. It had been nearly two weeks since Brittany's arrival. She learned how to lace up Santana's clothes without it being too lopsided, she was getting better about carrying things and she tripped less and less over her clothes. She'd also begun to fill out, the result of regular meals and she no longer looked like the gaunt child that first entered.

"Noel said that if I work extra hard, I will get picked by the Duke to have a day off. I want to go into town and look for my family." Brittany explained.

"Day off?" Santana scoffed. "There's no such..." She stopped herself just in time. Brittany, oblivious to what she was about to say, looked up. Santana bit her lip. If she told Brittany the truth, that servants never got the day off, she couldn't bear to see her sad. She hated seeing her personal servant cry. But it seemed just as cruel to let her go on believing it. She said nothing, thinking of a plan.

"I want to go into town." Santana announced at the dinner table. "And I want to bring my servant with me." Her father looked up from the soup he was enjoying.

"Darling, you hardly have time to go into town, what with your studies."

"Just for a day." Santana said.

"Don't be ridiculous. There's nothing for you there. If you want something, we will have the messenger go fetch it for you. Who knows what unsavory characters you'll meet there." Her mother said, dabbing her lips delicately.

"I want to go. And I want to bring my servant." Santana repeated.

"Darling..." Her father tried to reason.

"Please, papa." Santana batted her eyelashes at him. It was a trick she knew her father had a hard time rejecting. As she suspected, her father sighed, beginning to cave.

"Duke!" Her mother said. "We can't have Santana wandering around...it's filthy there!"

"It will be good for her." The Duke tried to reason. "She should go out, mingle a little. Being confined to the house every hour of every day, she will never understand what the outside world looks like!"

"I will not have my daughter catching whatever disease is out there at the moment."

"Culture, my darling." The Duke sighed. "And I haven't heard of any plagues gracing our presence yet." The Duchess glared at the Duke, which he took in stride. She set down her utensils.

"Do as you wish." She said and stood up. The Duke watched her leave the dining room. He looked at Santana, smiled and winked.

"Can my servant girl come as well?" Santana asked.

"Whatever for?" Her father questioned. "If you are buying anything, we'll have the carriage right there."

"She...she should come along." Santana said, not offering any other explanation. Her father thought about it. Since the new servant girl had come into the house, she'd hardly left Santana's side. The two were inseparable and he'd seen a change in Santana. She was calmer, less demanding. The only thing different was the girl so it had to have been her who made the change. And he couldn't very well deny Santana the positive influence that Brittany had on her.

"Bring her along. I suppose she'll be useful for holding things in the shops." He said. Santana grinned and went back to eating. The Duke should've been suspicious, he should've considered their relationship, odd at best, but his daughter, right before his eyes, was growing up from the spoiled brat that seemed to be screaming down the hall a few weeks ago. Nothing else, or where it came from, mattered.

When Santana finished her dinner, she went straight up to her nanny's room. Brittany was sitting on the bed, mending her apron. She'd caught it on a corner earlier that morning and it had resulted in a terrible tear. Her nanny decided it was a perfect opportunity to teach her how to mend clothes and there Brittany was, mending it, albeit very imperfectly. The stitches were uneven and when she pulled, she bunched the two ends together. The nanny watched, instructing her as best she could.

"We're going to town tomorrow." Santana announced. The two looked up and Brittany, once the words sunk in, jumped up, stabbing herself in the finger.

"Ow!" She said, sucking on the blood that sprung from the prick. Santana, without thinking, rushed over and grabbed her finger.

"Don't! It's dirty." She said. To her nanny's amazement, Santana pressed her kerchief to the blood, her kerchief, which had been woven from the finest of imported silks, soaking up the blood of a commoner. Brittany looked up at Santana.

"We are going tomorrow?" She asked.

"Yes, I have some...errands to run. We'll be going through the center of town." She said. Brittany almost jumped with excitement but remembered she had a sharp needle in one hand and would either hurt herself again, or worse, Santana.

"Thank you." She whispered. When Santana removed the kerchief, the blood had stopped.

"I'm retiring early, and you should do the same." Santana said. Brittany sat back down on the bed as she left the room, too wound up to sew or sleep.

"She treats you differently." The nanny commented. Brittany tilted her head. "She treats you with a care I've never seen her show with anyone else."

"Is that good?" Brittany asked.

"It's different." The nanny replied. She pondered over the small wonder sitting across the room, eyes burning with innocence and curiosity. She was old for the world and she could feel the certain weariness of death settling in her bones. She hadn't a reason to stay much longer, she couldn't work, she'd seen Santana grow up. But she wanted to see what kind of young lady Brittany would grow up to be. She wanted to watch Santana grow up too. She believed that the young Miss would grow up to be just like her mother, shrewd and power hungry. But something had most definitely changed and she could not say for certain whether or not young Miss Lopez would turn out the same.

It was far too much for someone of her age to comprehend. It was best that she left the world quickly and quietly to the hands of this extraordinary young girl.

Brittany did not sleep the entire night. Her mind was filled with images of the tiny house on the corner of the street where no fewer than 4 boys would be begging. She imagined the sign that hung outside, _Pierce's Cobbling and Shoe-making. _When morning finally arrived, she leapt out of bed and dressed herself quickly. She then sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the telltale signs that Santana too, had woken up.

It was mid-morning when she heard the creaks of the bed next door, a signal that Santana was awake. She rushed out of her room and into the one next door.

"Good morning, Miss." She said, bowing. Santana responded with her usual greeting.

"I want to wear the yellow dress today."

The first part of the day crawled for Brittany. She could hardly stand still when Santana was having breakfast. When they finished, the three of them walked to the front where the carriage was waiting. It reminded Brittany of how they first came to the estate. She wondered if she was going to leave the same way. If she found her family, Santana would definitely keep her promise and let her go back. She wondered if she could visit but cast the thought out of her mind. She was not their equal, and if she left, it would likely be the last time they would speak to each other. It was surprisingly saddening.

The ride was quiet, save for the snoring of the Duke when he passed out halfway. Green hills gave way to chimneys. Dirt path turned into cobblestone walkways. Brittany looked out the window at the familiar scene of the town. She'd only been gone weeks but it seemed like a lifetime. New children stood on the corners where her brothers used to beg and her heart sunk. Maybe they had found a better corner, she reasoned.

They got out of the carriage and stretched. The marketplace was bustling with activity and noise. Brittany looked around, trying to locate their street. Santana wrinkled her nose at the smell.

"Remember, you wanted to come here." Her father gently reminded her. They stood out like sore thumbs, with their gold tassels hanging from the expensive uniform, bright yellow dresses that showed no stains at the hem. Not all commoners knew who the Duke was, but they knew that he must've been someone very important. The shop owners welcomed him as he browsed through pocket watches and dishes while Santana looked at ribbons and dolls. Brittany's mind was elsewhere as she scanned the area for familiar landmarks.

"How does this look?" Santana asked, holding up a yellow ribbon to her hair. Brittany merely nodded, distracted by other things. Santana scoffed and threw it back on the table. "It's poor quality anyway." She said.

"Excuse me." Brittany asked of the shop owner. "Do you know of a John Pierce? He's a cobbler and he lives not far from here." Santana listened intently while pretending to peruse the other items.

"John...John Pierce the cobbler. That does sound familiar. I would ask the butcher, he had his shoes repaired just recently, right next door, miss." The shop owner replied. Brittany, without even asking permission, ducked out of the small shop and ran next door. Santana followed.

"Do you know a cobbler nearby?" Brittany asked the butcher. The butcher, a man of few words and thoroughly surprised by her, merely grunted and nodded.

"Down the street, 'bout a few blocks. Turn left, then make the first right. It'll be there." He said. Brittany whirled around.

"Where are you going?" Santana demanded.

"My father, I think he still might be here."

"Don't be ridiculous, you heard what the messenger said." Santana replied.

"But what if he came back?" Brittany asked. "What if he's back?" Without waiting for her mistress to allow her to go, Brittany ran out and down the street. Santana burst out the door and watched the retreating figure of her servant.

Brittany ran the whole way there. The streets became recognizable and she could see the ghostly visages of her and her brothers standing on corners, hands outstretched for coins. Tears blinded her vision as she sprinted down the cobblestone paths, earning looks from the adults walking on the side. When she turned the corner, she could see the sign that clearly read _Pierce's Cobbling and Shoe-making. _A relieved smile spread across her face and she ran as fast as her little feet could take her. She got to the door and pushed hard, bursting through.

"Papa!" She shouted.

The house was empty. Where her father would've been sitting was an overturned bench. She looked around. The tools were gone, the house was in disarray with chairs on their sides and dust covering every inch of flat surface. She ran upstairs, clinging to the small pinpoint of hope that perhaps they were sleeping in. The bed was empty and the rags on the floor unoccupied. Brittany sank to her knees.

"Mama!" She cried. "Papa!" Her small voice echoed in the tiny building. She had seen it with her own eyes that her family had abandoned her. She curled up on the threadbare blankets and a cold wind shook through the house.

From the stairwell, both the Duke and Santana watched quietly. They'd managed to catch up to Brittany. Santana made a move to get her but the Duke gently pulled her back.

"Not now." He said. "Let's go back downstairs." Together, they walked down the stairs and the Duke uprighted a chair. Santana looked around the small house. She wondered how anyone could bear living in that small of a space. The Duke, on the other hand, comprehended the situation immediately. Though he never experienced it, he understood how desperate the family must have been. The scenario played out in his head. The father must've been approached by Count Baste, he must've offered to buy the girl. The Duke knew, but he didn't understand.

"_No matter how desperate, one should not sell their children_." He thought to himself.

Eventually, Brittany came back downstairs, her eyes red from crying. The Duke went over to her, and though it was beneath him, he put his hand on her head to comfort her. Brittany threw herself around the Duke's waist, surprising both him and Santana, and wept into his side. Any other man of his rank would've flung her away and chastised her for being so informal to a man of his title but the Duke sympathized and let her cry.

The carriage was outside waiting when they exited the small shop. Brittany cast an empty glance back at the sign, now swinging noisily in the wind.

"It's time to go home." The Duke said from inside. Brittany and Santana got back into the carriage. The Duke fell asleep, as usual and Brittany stared blankly out the window at the changing scenery. Santana watched her servant and wondered how to make her smile again.

"Let's take a walk when we get back." She offered. Brittany said nothing in return so Santana tried again. "How about a ride? I will even let you borrow on of my ponies. We can ride along the river." Still silence. Santana fiddled with the hem of her dress and tried to think. Whenever she was sad, her father would hold her, or stroke her hair. But these actions would imply too much familiarity and equality if she did the same to a servant girl. And yet she knew Brittany was yearning for comfort.

She stood up and sat down next to her but Brittany didn't even glance in her direction. Santana contemplated scolding her for not paying attention to her mistress but she could tell that it wouldn't have affected Brittany at all, at least not in this state. She looked down at Brittany's left hand, settled next to her leg. She could take her hand and squeeze it. But that still was too friendly for a mistress and her servant. And then a thought struck her.

_"I don't think that's too familiar."_ She thought. She extended her pinky and linked it with Brittany's. This snapped Brittany out of her trance and she looked down at their hands, connected by one finger.

"I told you." Santana said. "You have a home with me." Brittany squeezed Santana's pinky in thanks and the two rode in silence.

It was a strange beginning with two strange players; a servant girl and the daughter of a Duke. One came from the streets, plucked from her family for sinister purposes. One came from the highest pedigree, hand fed culture and education and never knew a hard day in her life. Yet in a country where thousands of people separated the two, Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez found each other. It is a remarkable story and it bears telling. This is story of their friendship and eventually, the love that would transcend classes, religion and time.


	5. Part 1: Sixteen

**Shoutout to Hester as always! Thanks!**

* * *

It was that elusive mouse again. That mouse had somehow evaded capture for weeks by thwarting traps and staying out of sight. The only evidence that there was, in fact, a mouse in the pantry, were the little holes in the bags of grain and mouse dropping everywhere. No one had ever seen it but all the servants knew it was there.

The head cook did not approve of the fact that they were taking so long to rid the estate of the pest. He brought in famed mouse catching cats, he bought the most expensive and complex traps, the most potent of poisons and he even stayed up all night listening for the little patter of paws against the marble. Alas, none of it did any good and day after day, he grew angrier and more impatient.

"I will pay the man or woman who brings that creature to me dead or alive!" He shouted, slamming down a coin purse one morning. The servants were just finishing breakfast when he stormed in, gold jingling in one hand and grain sack in the other. There was a small hole in one corner, the trademark of the mouse, and as he swung both around, he scattered the grain all over the floor and table. His face was beet red with rage.

In moments, the whole room erupted with excited chatter. Servants wolfed down their food as quickly as possible and dove into the pantry to look for clues leading to the whereabouts of the rodent. Men and women crowded the kitchen, tracing tracks and droppings that seemed to vanish into the wall.

Only one girl sat quietly and finished her breakfast at her own pace. Brittany watched the activity in front of her and eyed the bag of gold. As she ate her porridge, her eyes darted to a small corner, obscured by a pedestal. She knew what lay behind it, a hole barely the width of three fingers that housed a slumbering animal. But she kept quiet and waited.

It wasn't until the room had cleared that Brittany returned to the servants' dining room. She looked around to make sure that no one was watching, especially not the head cook. Everyone else was busy with preparations for the evening's grand ball. In one hand, she held a small wooden, lacquered box which she set down on the table once she entered. She knelt down on the floor and moved the pedestal aside.

"Pst...pst...little mouse..." She whispered as she held her hand out in front of the hole. It took a little bit of coaxing for the animal to poke its head out. Recognizing the familiar smell of a friend, the mouse quickly crawled onto her hand. She lifted it up to her face.

"You've been very bad. I told you not to raid the pantry! I feed you enough, don't I?" The girl asked. The mouse sniffed around, expecting food. Brittany put one hand on her hips and frowned. "You've been very bad. Everyone's looking for you." The mouse squeaked in response. "Look, I would never turn you in, not for a sack of gold, but you really need to learn some manners!" She sat down at the table and opened the box.

"I hate to do this, but it's the only way I can keep you safe." She said. She opened the box and put the mouse inside. The top was riddled with holes, hand made using a hammer and nail so that the mouse could breathe easily. She closed the top of the box and listened to the skittering on the inside. She would bring the mouse out into the garden later that evening and set him loose outside. With any luck, he'd find a new home. She got up from the table and tucked the box behind the sack of potatoes in the closet. No one would look there, the cook had gotten everything he needed and no one was going to return. It was far too busy.

"What do you have there?" Brittany jumped and turned around. Standing in the doorway of the closet was a tall, dark skinned, smirking boy no older than she.

"Puck!" She exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I asked first." He said, leaning casually against the door frame. Brittany looked around and grabbed a few potatoes from the sack.

"The cook wanted me to get these." She said.

"Those won't feed anyone." He snorted, making a move to grab the entire sack. Brittany blocked his way, smiling nervously.

"I-I answered your question. Now answer mine." She said. Puck shrugged.

"I came here to steal a little to eat." He replied. Brittany frowned. Puck had a habit of getting in trouble. Ever since she first laid eyes on him, he'd done nothing but cause mischief whenever he could, whether it was accidentally burning the Duchess's favorite azalea patch or running the Duke's carriage into a ditch, Puck was always the source of the problem. Today seemed to be no exception, even though every one of them was supposed to be on their best behavior.

"Well, I think he just needed a few more." Brittany said, holding up the potatoes. Puck cocked and eyebrow and grabbed an apple from the nearby barrel, crunching into it loudly. He'd developed a curiosity towards Brittany. She rode a horse better than anyone he'd ever seen. The girl had a natural gift towards animals. He eyed her thighs lewdly, noting that it probably didn't hurt to have plenty of muscle down there. Brittany blushed when she noticed his gaze and walked out of the closet, closing the door behind her.

"Hey!" Puck said, opening it. Brittany cast an angry glance over her shoulder. "I wanted to..."  
"There you are you scoundrel! How dare you run away? And what is that you have in your hand?" The stable master stormed into the kitchen, walking right past Brittany as she exited the room. Puck turned pale and literally dove out the window. "Come back here!" Brittany grinned despite herself when she heard Puck's screams of mercy as the stable master chased him down. But as entertaining as it all was, and no matter how much she wanted to see Puck get beaten with a riding crop again, she had to prepare. After all, tonight was a very special occasion. Tonight was _the_ night.

* * *

Anyone who went to the ball was charmed by how fancy it was. The best orchestra in all the nation played the music, the food and wine were all imported from the finest places on Earth. Dozens of presents decorated the side closest to the stairs, overflowing the table and spilling onto the ground. About a hundred people chattered excitedly, mostly complimenting the party.

Prince Finn entertained the guests with his father even though he was not hosting. He mostly stood around, smiling awkwardly at the many giggling ladies that passed him and the young men who tried to strike up a conversation about politics and he only half-heartedly chimed in. The young man was now taller than his father, no small feat since his father wasn't short to begin with. But the young prince stood a head taller than most of the guests in the room.

"Isn't he handsome?" The girls chirped, smiling at him and coyly waving. He smiled and bowed his head respectfully. He let out a sigh and looked around the room.

"How much longer do we have to be here?" Prince Finn whispered into his father's ear.

"Be respectful. You know the Lopez family and I have been friends since you were but a baby. Need I remind you that..."

"That he saved my life, yes, father." Finn said and stood up straight again. He looked across the crowd and stifled a yawn. He had no idea why they came to this party every year. Just as he was about to turn his attention to the latest gentleman trying to gather favor from the king and prince, his eyes caught that of the young Berry daughter. He'd only seen her at this party and every year he swore she grew more beautiful. His breath hitched in his throat and he watched in awe.

The young Miss Rachel Berry hadn't come from a particularly wealthy or prominent family, which was part of the reason why Prince Finn never pursued her. He hadn't even spoken more than three words to her; "Good day, Miss" was the extent of it. But she tucked her hair back and smiled and greeted him properly. There was something about the way she carried herself that drew him in. He'd developed a soft spot for her, but due to his title, never approached her.

And there she was again, standing by the punch bowl, glancing up at him shyly. He flashed her a smile and she blushed and turned away.

"Prince Finn, are you even listening?" The king demanded. Prince Finn looked down.

"My apologies, I've had a very late night." He replied. The man in front of him prattled on about how their land had shrunk, and how there was unrest among the poorer folk, but Finn couldn't get Miss Rachel Berry out of his head.

On the opposite side of the room, Quinn dazzled the young men. She wore a light blue dress and matching earrings. The young men scrambled to introduce themselves and Quinn expertly flirted with all of them, giving them hope and leaving them wanting more. Her mother smiled approvingly.

"At this rate, you'll even catch Prince Finn's attention." Her mother said quietly. Quinn smiled back, her expression not unlike a cat who'd just stolen cream from the pantry.

"Don't let Duchess Lopez hear you, mother." She cautioned. "She'll throw you out of her house and home." Her mother laughed delicately.

"I'd like to see her try."

But it wasn't about Quinn that day, nor was it about Prince Finn. No, it was the young Miss Santana Lopez's 16th birthday. But the lady of the hour was nowhere in the grand ball room. Instead, as instructed by her mother, she sat in her room, brushing her hair and delicately applying her makeup. She was to wait until an hour after the party started.

"Fashionably late, dear, and you will grab everyone's attention as you descend down those steps. Don't forget who we aim to impress." Her mother said, pulling her hair back. Santana did her best not to roll her eyes at the statement. She knew perfectly well who her mother wanted to impress. She was, perhaps, twelve when she finally understood what all those visits to the palace, the parties and dance classes with the young prince and "accidental meetings" meant.

"I understand, mother." She replied. Her mother had been pushing so hard as of late. No wonder since they were both rapidly approaching the age where marriage talks were appropriate. Santana didn't particularly like the Prince, she believed him to be an awkward mess and a horrible dancer at that. But he had money and he had power and that made him worth pursuing.

"Santana, if you marry the prince..."

"Don't fret, mother, I'll get him." She said confidently.

"Good. Don't you dare let that Fabray girl out do you. I've seen her mother plotting like vultures every time you aren't around." Santana smirked. She bid her mother goodbye and her mother went down to join the guests. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was sixteen now, old enough to take care of herself and she was definitely old enough to take on someone like Quinn Fabray. There was no way she was going to let that blonde little trollop steal her prince.

The door opened and a tall blond maid walked in, carrying a tray of assorted fruits. She carefully set it down on the dresser and instinctively moved to fix the ribbon in Santana's hair.

"Thought you might be hungry." Brittany said. Santana looked at her in the mirror and smiled. They were both sixteen now. Brittany had grown up. Where she had been a scrawny, dirty street girl, in just a blink of an eye she'd filled out and, though Santana didn't like to admit it, grown taller.

"I'm fine." Santana replied, dismissing the food.

"If you say so, Miss." Brittany said politely, redoing the bow. When she finished it was immaculate. She hadn't been Santana's personal servant for nothing. She knew Santana better than Santana herself. For the past six years, Brittany hardly left Santana's side. She was there first thing in the morning, readying Santana's clothes for the day before Santana even stirred. She trailed after Santana everywhere she went, readied her bath, washed her clothes, even attended classes with her. It was certainly a strange relationship. Other girls her age had personal servants, but they never went everywhere with their mistress.

There were, of course, comments. They were never spoken in front of the Lopez family, but the whispers eventually reached the Duke's ears. It wasn't anything outright scandalous, mostly side comments on how Santana must've been hopeless if she had her servant follow her everywhere. Even if they weren't harsh comments, the Duke felt like it was time to confront Santana. But every time he tried to imply that Brittany wasn't a lapdog, and that Santana didn't need her by her side every second of the day, Santana merely brushed it off.

"If you are listening to the old women gossip, father, I think I need to remind you that you are a man and not one of them." She said calmly and wouldn't listen to anything else her father had to say.

Of course the Duke wasn't really complaining. A certain sense of tranquility settled over the estate once Brittany started tending to Santana. His daughter learned things that lessons couldn't teach; patience and kindness. She only ever showed those two virtues to Brittany, but it made him rest a little easier knowing she had them in the first place.

Brittany grabbed a brush off of Santana's dresser and brushed through Santana's long, thick, black hair. Santana sat contently, letting her servant pamper her even though she'd already brushed enough for two days.

"Will you dance with the prince?" Brittany asked.

"Perhaps. Heaven knows my mother will try." Santana replied.

"Will I wind up being the servant to the queen? Or will you have new servants to take care of you?" Brittany giggled. Santana turned around and stood up. She sincerely missed the days when she was taller than Brittany. She would even settle for being the same height but those days were long gone. Now she had to content herself with staring at her servant, trying to be stern but still half a head shorter. Brittany resisted a laugh.

"Whether I am queen or not, you will be my servant and nothing will change that." Santana said. Brittany smiled shyly. The door opened and the Duchess walked in.

"Santana, it's time." She said.

"Yes, mother." Santana said and her mother closed the door.

"Good luck." Brittany said. Santana checked her hair in the mirror one last time.

"Luck is something I do not need. I rely on skill, Brittany, and seducing men is something I learned from my mother, which means I learned it well." Santana said smirking. Brittany laughed lightly.

"Of course." Brittany opened the door for her and the two of them went outside. As they walked down the hallway towards the stairs, where a hundred voices chattered, Brittany stopped. It was Santana's entrance, not hers and though they rarely separated, it was time for Brittany to join the other servants. Santana glanced back.

"If I don't see you...same place?" Brittany asked.

"Same time." Santana responded and she walked into the light. Brittany watched her mistress stand at the railing while the room erupted into applause. Santana held her head high and descended slowly. Brittany silently cheered for her before disappearing towards the back staircase.

* * *

It wasn't hard for Santana or Santana's mother to pick out the prince. He was the only one tall enough to take out their chandelier as her mother put it. Santana rolled her eyes when her mother grabbed her hand and they made their way through the crowd, largely ignoring anyone who stopped to wish Santana well on her birthday. What Santana also didn't miss was the Fabray mother and youngest daughter glaring at her as they approached the giant boy.

"Oh, your highness." The Duchess said as if they had simply bumped into them by accident. The King bowed his head politely and kissed her hand. He then turned his attention to Santana.

"Good evening, Miss Lopez." He said, smiling and taking her hand to kiss it. Santana nodded politely. "I hope your ball is everything you wanted it to be."

"It is." Santana replied but she maintained eye contact with Prince Finn. He didn't meet her gaze for more than few seconds, feeling intimidated by the head-strong girl standing in front of him, eying him as if he were a prize for the taking. He glanced across the room at Miss Berry, who was entertaining conversation with a young man wearing giant spectacles. He felt a little disappointed that she was paying attention to someone else and his face showed it.

"Am I not interesting for you?" Santana asked.

"What? Oh, no, it's not that." Finn stammered, turning his attention back to Santana.

"That is not a gentleman's behavior." His father scolded.

"My apologies, Miss Lopez. You were saying?" He said, bowing his head.

"I asked if you wanted to take our conversation elsewhere. It's far too crowded and hot for me in the middle of the room." Santana said. Truthfully, she wanted to parade him around, especially in front of Quinn Fabray so that Quinn would know full well who the Prince was with.

"Of course." Finn said, holding out his arm, which Santana promptly took. She was fully aware that the second she did, the room erupted in a buzz of chatter about the two. She could practically feel the icicles some of the women shot at her as she and the Prince walked towards a more private and open part of the ballroom. She deliberately walked in front of Quinn and Judith Fabray and the older woman almost spat out her drink when she saw the two. As they walked past, Santana could've sworn she heard Judith berate her daughter for not jumping in quickly enough.

"How are things at the palace?" Santana asked, trying to make light conversation.

"They're alright. Father insists I take up hunting, it's supposed to be a gentleman's sport but I don't think I can stand shooting an animal." Finn responded.

"But isn't it exciting?" Santana said. The two of them sat down on chairs lining the edge of the room. "I mean, I've seen my father go out on rides, I've always wanted to witness a hunt myself."  
"It's fun, I suppose." Finn shrugged, clearing not invested in the conversation. Santana scowled at his aloof behavior and decided to switch things up. If he didn't want to talk about gentlemen activities, maybe gossip would trigger his interest.

"Have you heard the latest news about the Hummels?" She asked. "I heard the son was caught in an affair and with another man at that!"

"Is that so?" Finn said in his monotone voice. Santana rolled her eyes.

"How about dancing?" She asked. She finally drew a reaction from the otherwise bored prince but it was not the reaction she was hoping. He started fidgeting.

"I'm not very good." He admitted.

"Don't be ridiculous." Santana said, gently swatting his arm. "You're the Prince, you have to know how to dance. You must've been given lessons."

"My instructor left, he claimed I was unteachable." Finn smiled a little, embarrassed by the memory of the gentleman approaching his father, throwing down his hat and storming out of the palace. Santana stood up, making a bold gesture by grabbing Prince Finn's hand and pulling him to his feet.

"Come, you must dance with me. It's my birthday and it is very rude to refuse a lady on her birthday." Finn laughed but his mirth was faked. Together the two joined the many couples on the floor.

"They do look handsome together, no?" The Duchess asked to the Duke. The Duke scratched his beard and shook his head.

"Darling, must I remind you? No politics on Santana's birthday."

Brittany stood near the food, right next to Noel. It was her usual spot whenever it came to grand balls. She was only there to serve Santana, and, judging by her preoccupation with the Prince, it didn't look like she needed a servant that night. She leaned from one leg to the other, tapping her foot to the beat of the orchestra. Noel glanced over and frowned disapprovingly.

"Stand still! You look like you are ready to run out of here at any second." Noel hissed.

"Santana doesn't need me, and I've been running around all day. Noah let Santana's pony loose again, I swear he does that on purpose just to see me chase after it."

"I bet he does." Noel snickered.

"What does that mean?" Brittany said, elbowing the older woman.

"Nothing at all. Oh look, a noble is waving me down." Noel scampered off, giggling to herself. Brittany looked around but she couldn't see anyone even paying them the least bit of attention. She pouted to herself. What on earth did Noel mean?

* * *

It was late at night when all the guests left. The Duke had long since retired, claiming old age and fatigue. Santana stayed until the very last guests left and she and her mother retired upstairs. Her mother kissed her goodnight, whispering a "job well done"to her before she entered the master bedroom and shut the door. Below, the servants one by one retired to their quarters and Santana slipped into her night dress. Instead of going to bed, she sat up and waited. Tonight was _the_ night.

Brittany said goodnight to the other servants and waited until all the lights were off before she quickly stole into the kitchen. She opened the closet door and looked around to make sure that no one was watching. She retrieved the wooden bod from behind the sack of potatoes. Frantic squeaking altered her to her furry friend's presence.

"Shh, it's ok." She whispered. She quickly left the kitchen and opened the back door as quietly as she could. She walked down the path towards the flower circle in the center of the garden. When she arrived at the bench, she opened up the box and the mouse scurried off before she could blink.

"Goodbye little friend!" She hissed, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of him. She looked down at the open box and blanched. "Oh no!"

"Oh no?" A voice said from a little further away. Brittany looked up and saw Santana walking towards her. She blushed a little and looked back down at the box. She bit her lip apologetically.

"I ruined your present." She said in a small voice. She held the box out for Santana to see. Along the edges of the inside, there were teeth marks from the previous occupant and much of the paper that lined the bottom had been torn to shreds. Santana sat down on the bench and patted the seat next to her. When Brittany sat down, Santana took the box from her.

"It's lovely if you leave it closed." Santana said.

"Miss...I..." Santana held out her hand and interrupted her.

"Not "Miss", Brittany. You know that." She corrected. And Brittany did.

It was their tradition. It was one that started when Brittany first arrived and they spent the night of their joint birthday together. Every year, in the quiet dead of night after Santana's extravagant birthday party, two girls met in the garden. For the brief time they spent together that night, Santana was not a noble and Brittany was not a servant. They met as two girls who shared the same birthday and celebrated it together away from the bright lights and loud chatter, pretenses and statuses.

For that time, Santana Lopez saw the girl in front of her as Brittany Pierce, not as her personal servant and Brittany Pierce saw Santana Lopez instead of her mistress of high ranking birth.

"I got you this." Santana reached up and removed the necklace she wore. "It doesn't match me at all." She dropped the light blue tanzanite necklace into Brittany's open hand. Brittany's eye bulged.

"But...but you specifically asked your mother for this!" She exclaimed, holding it up in the moonlight to watch it sparkle.

"Well, I couldn't very well tell my mother it was for you, could I?" Santana said, scoffing with fake disdain. Brittany smiled, half out of happiness, half out of awe and she put it on. Santana cast a sideways glance over, trying to fight the smug grin that threatened to ruin the moment. "It matches your eyes."

"I feel horrible." Brittany said, her hands dropping into her lap.

"Why?"

"I never give you anything as nice as the things you give me." She sighed. Santana laughed.

"The things you give me are wonderful, Brittany."

"But Miss...I mean Santana..."

"I like your gifts, Brittany." Santana said firmly. Brittany broke into a smile.

"Ok!" She said simply. She was never one to dwell on unhappiness. It took too much effort to be worried, or sad. If Santana said that she liked her presents, Brittany would accept that with no questions asked. Santana held out her pinky and Brittany linked hers with Santana's. Santana was surprised by how much she missed that small bit of physical contact with her servant. They didn't make it a habit to link pinkies, only on their birthday. She was reminded of how awkward it was to link arms with Prince Finn, how he was so much taller than her and walked at an uneven pace. But this, linking pinkies with Brittany felt so natural. They sat quietly in the garden while Brittany played with her necklace, angling it this way and that to catch the way it reflected the light.

"How was it, dancing with the Prince?" Brittany asked. Santana snorted unattractively but Brittany found it endearing that Santana let down her facade around her.

"He is, by far, the worst dancer I have ever met. He stepped on my feet more times than I can count and kept muttering the beat under his breath." Santana replied. Brittany laughed aloud in surprise.

"Maybe his legs are too long he doesn't know how to control them." She offered.

"My mother insists that I do lunch with him in the near future. I personally couldn't care less. His Majesty is already talking to my father as if they're brothers."

"So are you marrying him?" Brittany asked excitedly.

"Perhaps. We shall see." Santana smirked. They sat in the dark for a little longer, savoring the bit of tranquility. They yawned simultaneously and looked at each other when they did so.

"It's far too late for me." Santana noted sleepily. Brittany nodded and they both stood up at once. They strolled at a leisurely pace, not wanting to hurry the end of their night. They kept their fingers linked until they stood outside the house. Santana was the first to pull her hand away and they silently crept up the stairs. Santana waited until Brittany the door to her quarters first.

"Good night." She whispered.

"Good night, Miss." Brittany replied and just like that, they returned to being mistress and servant. The magical moment had been broken and would not return for another full year. They entered their rooms at the same time and Santana slipped into bed. She opened the drawer beside her. Inside was a pressed flower, a few coins that amounted to less than a solid loaf of bread at the market, a poem on a small piece of parchment, a hand woven set of socks that no longer fit and were oddly shaped to begin with and most recently a rolled up painting of the estate. They were all gifts that Brittany had given her over the years. Santana kept each and every one of them. She opened the box and put all of the previous gifts inside the new one. The box itself was too large for the drawer so Santana tucked it under her bed. She listened to the crickets outside her window and rested her head back. She treasured all of Brittany's gifts; the girl worked so hard to make or obtain them. They'd been together for six years and Santana marveled at the thought.

"Six years..." She thought. Everything else melted away. Whatever lay ahead, whether it was Prince Finn or someone else, she wasn't worried. Brittany would always be there by her side, so there was nothing to worry about.

She didn't sleep immediately. She thought back to their very first meeting in the auction house. She smiled when she thought of their 10 year old selves, how stubborn she'd been with the Count. Now that she was older, she understood what fate would've befallen Brittany had she not stepped in and bought her. She wasn't sure her servant did, though, and perhaps it was better that she didn't know. Thinking of the Count brought a scowl to Santana's features but it quickly vanished when she remembered that a good thing came of it.

_I'll never regret buying you._ She thought as she closed her eyes and slept.


	6. Part 1: Saviors

Santana woke to a clamor so loud that her windows shook. She leapt out of bed and flung open the doors to her balcony. Outside, two female gardeners were screaming and a little further away from the garden, closer to the stables, Santana saw her father. In his hand was a smoking musket and he lowered it, his gaze fixated on something in the woods.  
"Father!" Santana called from the balcony. Her father looked up at her, his expression unreadable at first. Then it softened.

"Did I wake you, my princess?" He yelled.

"What's going on?" Santana asked.

"A feral dog was terrorizing the horses. I think I sufficiently scared him away. Who knows what the mongrel was carrying." Her father replied. He looked off at the forest again with an intense stare and then handed the gun to the servant who had accompanied him there. He looked at the two female gardeners and nodded curtly to them.

"It's alright, it should be gone. But if any of you so much as sees a glimpse of tail, I want you to get everyone indoors where it is safe." He ordered. "I will not have my servants in any danger what so ever." The two women nodded, still clinging to each other and shaking. The Duke advanced upon the house in large strides. Santana could tell that he was angry, probably for missing when he was shooting. She knew how sensitive her father was when it came to marksmanship. He was hailed far and wide for being one of the best shots in the country and for him to miss was a serious blow to his ego.

"You'll get it next time, father!" Santana shouted. He looked up and smiled.

"I can only hope there won't be a next time." He replied. "I just shudder to think that it will harm some poor soul." He cast one final glance towards the trees before stepping indoors again. Santana went back inside as well and closed the door to her balcony. The door opened and Brittany walked in quickly.

"Is everything alright, Miss?" Brittany asked worriedly. I heard the commotion in your room and I rushed over here."

"It was outside, Brittany. Didn't you look?" Santana closed the blinds to her windows and sat down in her chair.

"No, Miss." Brittany replied. "I came in here as soon as I heard you shout. I wanted to see if you were safe." Santana glanced up sharply at her maid. She raised a single eyebrow at her and a smile played on the corners of her lips.

"So the first thing you do when you heard commotion outside is to come see if I'm well?" Santana asked coyly.

"Yes, of course, Miss." Brittany said, quite shocked that she would think otherwise. "You are the only daughter of Duke Lopez and you are my mistress, of course I would run to you first."

"And what about yourself?" Santana asked. "You wouldn't fear for your own life?"

"Well..." Brittany tilted her head thoughtfully. "I would be lying if I said I wouldn't fear for my safety, Miss. But without you, I wouldn't have the very good life I am living right now. You are not just my employer, Miss, you are my savior." This statement, in all of its frank and innocent nature, shocked Santana and she blushed profusely. She was not used to being so genuinely thought of and Brittany's words were said as if she were describing a saint. Santana was by no means a saint, but to hear someone think so highly of her, to think of her as a _savior_, well, it was enough to get the blood flowing directly to Santana's face.

"Your words are sweet." Santana said turning away so that Brittany could not see her reddening cheeks. "Now go on, you're still in your nightgown. I will not see you until you are properly dressed." Brittany bowed and left the room. Santana put her hand on either side of her face, feeling the hotness. She'd been complimented before, by both men and women so it shouldn't have been so unnerving for Brittany to say nice things. Yet when Brittany spoke those words, it held such gravity, such a force that it affected Santana in a way words had never done before. She'd read the most intimate of poems, heard the most well composed of love ballads and seen the most beautiful paintings of her likeness. All of these came from suitors both famous and unknown and yet they never carried a fraction of the power that Brittany's simple words had.

"Her innocence surprised me, that's all. I've never been anyone's savior." She whispered to herself. She grabbed a brush and began combing it through her hair, trying to do anything to distract her racing thoughts. She finally calmed down moments later after convincing herself it was because she lived in a society where she expected false compliments that were rife with jealousy and contempt. She was merely caught off guard by Brittany's sincerity.

Brittany knocked on the door and walked back in, wearing proper servant attire. Santana put her brush down and turned to regard her, having regained her own composure.

"Come Brittany." Santana said. "You must remember that I'm having lunch with the Crown Prince Finn today."

"It's still early. Doesn't your mother insist you be at least an hour..."

"It's the Prince. If there are other guests then yes, they should be waiting. But if it's lunch with the Prince, I need to show him how punctual I am." Santana explained. Brittany smiled. She would never understand the inner workings of aristocrats.

It was mid-morning when Santana was ready. She and the Prince were to dine at his palace. However, that meant leaving Brittany at home. Santana felt uneasy. It wasn't that she needed Brittany in particular, but the palace made her restless. It was enormous but she always felt confined in the endless corridors. She didn't even want to think about the whispering. Every time she visited, which granted was seldom, the servants wouldn't even bother waiting until she was out of earshot to gossip about how shamelessly she pursued the Prince despite her lower rank. It always made Santana's blood boil. She'd never struck a servant before but there were many times when she thought of turning on her heel and giving the gossiping women a large piece of her mind.

"Wait for me. I shouldn't be gone too long." Santana said. Brittany bowed as she, the Duchess and the Duke got into the carriage.

"As always, Miss." She replied. Santana nodded and the driver closed the door. Brittany watched them leave, unmoving from her place until they were but a speck down the road. She dusted her apron off and went back inside.

The servants were slacking everywhere. With the Duke gone, many of them took the chance to relax around the large estate. Some dozed off in the sun, some collapsed in chairs and others took a walk around the garden. Brittany found the atmosphere relaxing as well. Everyone was always on their best behavior when the family was around. It was good to see people acting naturally, even if naturally was less proper than was appropriate.

Brittany decided that it was as good a time as any to go rest in the sun. It was a bright and clear and she really had nothing better to do than to wait until Santana came home. She wandered down the hill towards the barn. She wanted to climb onto the roof, that was where she was going to get the most sun. As she entered through the large doors, she stopped dead in her tracks when she heard giggling. She stopped and cupped her hand behind her ear to get a better listen. It was two voices, one male and one female. Brittany walked in further and she saw two bodies chatting quietly and excitedly in the corner. She took another step and that's when she recognized both of them.

"Noah! Noel!" She exclaimed. Puck had her pinned to the wall with one arm and their faces were a mere hairs width away. When they heard Brittany's cry of surprise, Noel looked over and shock registered on both of their faces. She pushed Puck away and quickly exited the barn. Puck cleared his throat as Brittany stared at him incredulously.

"She...uh...stopped by." He tried lamely. Brittany's mouth was open in shock. She never believed that Noel would've been attracted to someone like Puck, especially given how much younger he was than her. She'd heard rumors though, that the stable boy would go after any girl he laid his eyes on, older or not. She knew he was a tramp, that he got into trouble more often than not and that he was definitely not one she should spend more than a passing moment with. But she'd heard all of these things from Noel and to find her practically...doing _that_ with Puck...

"It wasn't what it looked like. She just saw me hiding in the hay..." Puck tried to explain again but Brittany wasn't having any of it. She turned around and made to walk away but Puck grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

"Why did you come?" He asked.

"I wanted to get onto the roof. It's a fine day out and I planned to enjoy it. It's ruined now, thank you very much." She jerked her hand out of his and stormed towards the house. Puck opened his mouth to call out after her but the words did not leave his mouth.

Brittany chased Noel into the library and the older woman immediately busied herself with rearranging the books.

"You told me I should never, ever go near him!" Brittany exclaimed.

"And I stand by what I've said." Noel responded quickly. Brittany could tell she had caught her in an embarrassing situation. "He is a bad influence."

"But you..."

"I was stupid enough to fall for his charms, Brittany." Noel slammed the books on the desk in exasperation. "But if he knew he had someone else to chase, he would leave me. And once he has you, he will do exactly the same to you once you bore him."

"Then why?" Brittany asked as Noel began restacking the books.

"Because that man is carved from the devil himself." Noel said, flinging up her hands to enhance the exaggeration. "He has a certain charm. He draws you in and he never relents until he has you. I was unfortunate enough to fall into his trap."

"You say that as if he were a hunting trap." Brittany noted.

"They are not dissimilar." Noel replied. Brittany leaned against the desk and regarded the still flustered Noel.

"I'm just teasing you, Noel. I've no intention to go near him or fall for whatever spell he seems to cast on all the women around the estate. I doubt he's even interested in me." Brittany replied.

"You can be sure he is." Noel said seriously. Brittany blinked and stood up straight. Noel gawked at her confused expression. "You didn't know? He's been fancying you ever since he saw you ride."

"That's ridiculous." Brittany said, backing away.

"What's ridiculous is that you didn't know." Noel said. The tables had turned and now Noel was advancing with her words of jest. "You really didn't know?"

"It never occurred to me. He's always making fun of me, he's..." Brittany stopped.

"At least you know about Michael? Matthew?" Brittany looked dumbfounded. Noel put a hand on her shoulder. "You never even once noticed that half the boys on this estate..." Noel stopped in midsentence and stared in disbelief at the still shocked Brittany. "Lord give me strength."

"I have to go." Brittany said and left the room before Noel could object. Brittany went directly to her room, where the still alive but very old nanny lay in bed, resting for the day. She opened and closed the door quietly so that she wouldn't wake the sleeping woman. She sat down on her bed, her face completely flushed. She never knew that so many of the boys liked her. She wanted to believe that Noel was simply teasing her but the look on Noel's face showed no guile.

"Oh Lord, what am I to do?" She whispered as she flopped down on the bed.

* * *

Santana and the Prince walked around the massive hallways of the palace, chatting pleasantly about anything, the weather, the current affairs, their parents. Finn, as Santana found out, had a penchant for singing. He said it with much embarrassment that his favorite time of day was when he had to attend singing and music lessons.

"I find it really helps me deal with the burden of being a prince." He said. "For that brief time, it's as if I'm free from the constraints of the kingdom, of my father and of my duty to the country."

"I've no doubt his Highness has a lovely voice." Santana said trying to encourage him to talk, it was better to have in ramble than to endure all that awkward silence. She glanced at the clock, wondering just how long her father and mother planned on socializing.

"My instructor tells me I still require much work. Do you like singing, Miss Lopez? I can introduce you to him. He is a William Schuester, he taught the young Master Hummel as well." Finn said.

"I have my own instructor but thank you, your Highness." Santana replied politely.

"He also taught the young Miss Berry. She has a divine voice. Have you ever heard her sing?" Santana glanced at him. His eyes glazed over a little.

"Really, what else is 'divine' about Miss Berry?" Santana asked, not amused.

"She's very shy, I suppose that comes from a country upbringing and she's not very rich, as evidenced by her attire. Yet she somehow manages to shine, like a star given a human form." Finn opened his mouth to continue and then he realized that he was in the company of another female and he stopped and coughed apologetically.

"Let's move on." Santana said, turning her nose up.

Hours later, Finn was more than thankful when their awkward, slightly hostile atmosphere was broken up by the parents finally deciding that it was time for them to head back.

"You know how servants are when you leave." The Duke joked with the King.

"Smoking all the fine cigars, sneaking into the pantry, Duke I assure you I know exactly what idle servants can do." The King laughed. Santana faced Finn who kissed her hand.

"I...ah...I'm sorry, Miss Lopez. It was...unacceptable behavior." The Duchess gave Santana a good look over. Her daughter didn't seem flustered, she seemed angry, which meant that the Prince had once again put his foot in his mouth somehow. She sighed and shook her head as the three of them got into the carriage.

"Did you have fun, my Princess?" The Duke asked.

"Father, I stopped having fun when I was about 12. You and I both know that the Prince has horrible social skills. It's painful to be around him." Santana said.

"Yes dear, which is why you will need to handle all the social events when you marry him." The Duchess said.

"If I marry him, mother." Santana responded.

"Don't be silly. If he asks, and if his father agrees, of course you will marry him." The Duchess snapped. "Duke, please tell your daughter..." She stopped when she saw that he had passed out as he always did in the carriage. She drew in a deep breath and Santana stared at the window, wishing the carriage would travel a little faster.

The sun was setting by the time they arrived back at the estate. The servants had all been warned and prepared themselves, pretending that they were busy all day with their chores instead of loafing around. Brittany was standing right at the bottom of the steps, eager to see her Mistress. She'd slept for most of the day, then spent another good few hours avoiding the eyes of any of the boys. She was relieved when one of the servants shouted that the Duke's carriage was coming. If she stayed by Santana's side, no one would approach her.

Santana got out first, hopping down and walking briskly in through the doors. Brittany followed and she could tell her Mistress was not pleased.

"How was the Prince, Miss?" Brittany asked.

"And oaf, as usual. Let's take a walk in the garden, I need some air to relax myself." She said. They walked down the hill towards the stone path. "Every time I see him, he's always talking about the Berry daughter. That girl has low standing, mediocre looks and a downright annoying personality."

"Miss, he's a fool if you'll pardon me saying so. He has a beautiful and well respected lady by him. He should not be speaking of anyone else." Santana blushed but she turned her head so that Brittany couldn't see.

"Thank you." She said quietly. Brittany smiled at her.

"Of course, Miss." She replied.

Santana felt considerably better now that she was back at home. They walked until the sun disappeared from the sky. The air started cooling and Santana shivered. It was a slight motion, but Brittany nonetheless caught it.

"Let's go back in, Miss." She suggested. Brittany nodded in agreement but something in the air troubled her. It was unusually quiet for that time of night. Usually there were night birds singing but everything was still. A heavy feeling filled Brittany's chest and she looked around. Something in the forest moved and she felt her heart begin to race.

"Miss." She whispered.

"Yes?"

"Miss, please start walking back towards the estate. Quickly." Santana opened her mouth to chastise Brittany for ordering her around but the tone in Brittany's voice was fearful and Santana knew better than to question her command. Brittany's eyes darted around in the setting sun and she saw the shadow again. This time it was even closer. She saw two feral eyes gleam from the trees and realized what it was.

"Run!" Brittany yelled. The two of them broke into a sprint towards the house. Brittany saw two servants on the balcony and screamed at them.

"HELP US!" The two servants jumped to attention and saw Santana and Brittany running for their life. In hot pursuit was the feral dog from the morning. They rushed inside and shouted for the Duke. All the blood drained from the Duke's face when they burst into his study.

"Santana's in danger!" They shouted. He was on his feet in less than a second and ran outside.

Brittany held Santana's hand as they ran, glancing back to see how fast the dog was gaining on them. It eyes were mad and foam flew from its mouth. It was catching up too fast for them to outrun. Santana was terrified and she had never run so fast in her life. It wasn't easy in her dress either. They weren't 100 feet from the house when the dog caught up and grabbed a hold of the hem on Santana's dress. Santana screamed and tripped. She tried to get to her feet but the dog dragged her away from the house. Without even thinking, Brittany ran towards the mad dog and kicked it sharply. She knew she could've been bitten but all that mattered was saving Santana's life. She stood in front of the dog, blocking its way to Santana.

"Brittany!" Santana yelled. Brittany saw the dog circle her and she heard it growl. As it leapt, she closed her eyes and waited for the white, sharp teeth to sink into her skin.

A shot rang out and the body of the dog collided with Brittany's, causing her to fall back onto Santana. Brittany opened her eyes and screamed, pushing the dead dog off of her. She and Santana scrambled to their feet.

"SANTANA!" The Duke ran down the hill, dropping his still smoking gun. He embraced her, feeling her arms and back for any wounds. "Are you hurt? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Papa." Santana sobbed. She shook violently in his arms and tears stained her cheeks. Brittany too was shaking in fear. "Brittany protected me." The Duke reached out and gripped Brittany's shoulder tightly. His expression showed all the thanks that he could not say with words. Brittany nodded in acknowledgment and the Duke ushered both of them to the safety of indoors.

Inside, Santana's mother let out a choked sob and hugged her daughter tightly. Santana had been able to compose herself a little but her mother was a wreck.

"Thank god you're safe!" She exclaimed. The Duke faced Brittany with a serious expression.

"You saved my daughter's life." He said. "I cannot thank you enough. If there's anything I can do...if there's anything you need..."

"I'm alright." Brittany said. "She saved me once, it's only fair I return the favor." The Duke nodded once, then did something so shocking that everyone in the room gasped. He pulled her into a tight hug.

"I thank you." He whispered and let her go. Brittany was so stunned by the action that she didn't even follow Santana as the family went into the library to calm down.

Dinner was served later that evening and Brittany was congratulated as a hero in the dining room. She accepted the cheers with a smile and continued about her business. She ate well that night, the Duke invited her to sit with them at the dinner table and eat with them. She felt embarrassed at first but even the Duchess insisted, saying that "dues must be paid." It was quieter than the servant's dining room. There were only five people there, the servant who delivered the meals and the four of them sitting down. Brittany was used to the chatter and noise of the other servants as they ate. Sitting with the Lopez family was very different. They hardly talked and ate as quietly as possible. Brittany did her best to imitate them but she felt the Duchess's eyes on her at all times, judging her from across the table. She hardly ate anything she felt so self-conscious, no matter how delicious the food was.

In the end, Santana excused herself and took Brittany with her. Brittany thanked them for the wonderful meal. The Duke and Duchess watched as the two of them disappeared up the stairs to prepare for bed. Brittany went through the process of untying and unbuttoning Santana's dress and helping her get into her sleepwear.

"I just wanted to let you know," Santana began. "that I owe you my life." Brittany smiled as Santana let down her hair.

"You saved mine as well."

"Then we're even." Santana replied and then looked perturbed by the idea. "You're not going to leave me are you?" Brittany laughed.

"Don't be silly. Where would I go?"

"This is your home." Santana said firmly.

"Of course, Miss." Brittany made a move to leave but Santana called her back.

"Wait!" She shouted. Brittany turned around.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Don't go. I can't sleep after...well...after today." Santana said.

"But Miss..."

"That's an order. You are to stay by my side until morning." Santana commanded. She bit her lip. Perhaps that was a little too much. "At least stay with me until I fall asleep. There are shadows everywhere." Anyone else would've teased her about being afraid of the dark but Brittany simply smiled and took a seat next to Santana's bed.

"Of course, Miss." Brittany said. Santana settled into her bed and Brittany blew out the lamp. It was dark in the room, with only the moonlight streaming in. Santana's eyes darted back and forth but she felt oddly comforted by Brittany's presence sitting next to her. She could hear the steady breathing of her servant and she knew that Brittany would do anything to protect her. With this knowledge, Santana fell asleep quickly.

Brittany also listened to the sound of Santana breathing. When it evened out, Brittany slowly got up. She paused for a moment when she saw Santana. Her sleeping face made Brittany smile despite herself. She was glad that Santana was safe. Seeing Santana in danger sent chills down Brittany's spine. She never knew she had that kind of bravery but when Santana needed help, saving her became instinctual. Something tugged at her chest when she saw the peaceful expression on her Mistress's face. Her eyebrows furrowed. Was it relief? Pride that she'd done what she did? What was it?

Brittany decided it was because she had a very long, very tiring day and that it was time to go to sleep for the night. She stole out of Santana's room quietly, only to run into one of the male servants. He had just come out of her room. In the moonlight, Brittany could barely make out who it was.

"Matthew!" She exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"Come quickly." He said, taking her hand and together, they raced down the steps. He led her to the servant's dining hall and stopped. A boy, probably no older than 13, lay on the floor, moaning in pain and it was not hard to see why. He had two black eyes, a large gash on his arm and chest and his cheeks were swollen. His brown hair was tangled due to the blood streaming from a cut on his forehead.

"He looks like he's been beaten!" Brittany hissed. "But why did you need to find me?"

"He keeps muttering your name." Matthew said. Brittany's eyes widened.

"What?" She demanded.

"He keeps muttering 'Brittany' and 'Mary'. I know you told us once that you had a sister named Mary. This can't be coincidence." Matthew replied. Brittany stared, her mouth agape at the boy lying at her feet. She dropped to her knees and gently placed a hand on his arm.

"Can you hear me?" She whispered urgently. "Please, please tell me your name." The boy groaned. He couldn't open his eyes. "What's your name?"

"Nathan." He said weakly. Brittany's blood ran cold and she held her breath. "Nathan Pierce." With that he passed out on the floor while every nerve in Brittany's body deadened. Nathan Pierce was her brother. This boy was her brother.


	7. Part 1: Brothers and Sisters

When Santana awoke, she blinked to clear her eyes and looked around. As her eyes focused, so did her thoughts and she remembered that her servant had accompanied her until she fell asleep. Santana instinctively looked down, half expecting to see Brittany still lying next to her bed. She was strangely disappointed when there was no one by her side. She frowned and grabbed the bell on the night stand and rung it sharply. She cocked her ears, listening for the rustle of the bedcovers in the room next to her. But it was silent. Santana rung it again, perhaps Brittany was sleeping heavily. Still no one in the next room moved.

Santana slipped out of bed. Brittany was usually very quick to respond to any call that Santana made no matter how late or how early. It troubled Santana enough that she got out of bed and walked to Brittany's room. The door was opened just a crack and Santana peered in. Apart from the aging and snoring nanny, there was no one in the room. Brittany's bed was made as if no one had even gotten in. Santana pressed her lips together. Where was Brittany? She looked outside. It was still early, even earlier than when the servants got up. It was plenty dark outside still but she could just make out the distant light. Surely Brittany was not wandering around at this hour? But her bed was unoccupied and Santana wanted to know.

It was slightly chilly and foggy outside and Santana went back into her room to get a robe for herself. She wandered down to where the servants were sleeping. Getting there meant walking through the kitchen, then the dining area. When she did, she almost passed the slumped over Brittany and jumped when she saw her. Brittany was resting, partially obscured by the table. She sat on the ground leaning against a wall, her head forward. Santana crossed her arms. Why was Brittany here?

"Brittany!" She hissed as she advanced. Brittany murmured in her sleep and her head lifted even though her eyes were still closed. "Brittany!" The second time, Brittany's eyes opened.

"Santana?" She whispered. Santana looked around hurriedly, wondering if anyone had heard Brittany call her name so casually.

"Mistress, not Santana." Santana corrected. She took a few more steps forwards, advancing on the girl still trying to get a grip on her location. "Why are you even d-" It was only until she got around the table that she saw the body lying next to Brittany. She gasped and her hands flew to her mouth to stifle the scream. The boy lying there looked like he had been to hell and back. Brittany blinked, looked down at Nathan and then back up to Santana. The expression on her face was a mixture of fear and panic.

"Miss, Miss I can explain."

"What...what is that?" Santana demanded.

"It's a boy, Miss. He's hurt really badly."

"What is he doing here?" Santana yelled, no longer caring that she could wake up everyone. Brittany stood up.

"Miss, he's my brother." She admitted. Santana's mouth dropped open in shock. Her eyes flew from the boy to Brittany, who was glancing down at him. He groaned, possibly due to the noise and coughed. Brittany bent down and brushed his bangs from his eyes. When she felt his temperature, she looked up at Santana.

"Miss! He's burning up!"

"What do you expect me to do?" Santana asked.

"I don't know, Miss. I thought he was getting better! I was watching him all night!" She said hysterically. Then she looked up sharply, remembering an important fact. "Please, Miss. Your father...the Duke is a doctor, no? Please, save him. He's my brother. I need to know what happened. Please." Brittany pleaded. Without another word, Santana ran out of the room and up the stairs. She burst into her parents' room where her mother and father were sleeping soundly.

"Father! Father come quick!" She shouted. Her father shot up.

"What? What is it?" He muttered slightly incoherently.

"There's a boy in the servant's dining quarters! He's very badly hurt!" Santana said, pulling at his sleeve.

"What...what explain yourself!" The Duke ordered.

"Please, father, just come." Santana said. "He needs your help right away." The Duke did not appreciate being woken up with the commotion but the look in his daughter's eyes was sincerely frightened. He stood up and followed her, not even bothering to slip into anything extra. He walked barefooted down the steps, a pace behind Santana but still as quickly as his age would allow. They hurried into the dining hall and when the Duke saw the boy, he froze for a moment. Brittany bent over him, tears staining her cheeks as she pleaded for him to hold on. He stood there, taking in the scene before him.

"Father?" Santana whispered. "Please help him." As if the words broke his trance, he strode forward in giant steps, motioning for Brittany to move. He picked up the boy in his strong arms and set him on the table.

"Brittany, go to my room. Near my bed is a very large bag. Bring it to me." He ordered. Brittany's lip quivered as she fought back tears. She dashed out of the room. Santana inched closer to her father.

"Will he...?"

"I don't know. These wounds are deep. It looks like he's been cut with a sword. Damn...why didn't Brittany tell me earlier? It's getting infected and he has a fever as a result." He grabbed the boy's already cut up shirt and tore it in half. Santana gasped and turned away. There were multiple gashes all over the boy's body. It looked like someone had used him for sword practice.

"Please leave, Santana. I don't want you to see this." He said. Santana was quick to oblige, almost bumping into Brittany on her way out. Brittany didn't even apologize to Santana for running into her. She brushed past her and set the bag down on the table. The Duke whispered something in her ear and Brittany nodded. Santana left the room and sat down on the bench and waited.

It wasn't long until her mother came down, looking rather angry at all the noise.

"What on earth is going on?" She asked.

"A boy is lying on the table in there, mother." Santana explained. "He's badly hurt." Her mother looked taken aback.

"Well, well how did he get here?" She inquired.

"I don't know, mother. But father is in there trying to save him." Her mother did not look too keen on the idea. She hmphed and went back up the stairs.

"I've always said your father was too kind for his own good." She said before disappearing back into her bedroom. Santana heard the louder than usual slam, a signal that her mother was going to be cross with her father the following day. But Santana suspected her father wasn't going to care.

After a few minutes, Brittany wandered out in a daze. Her hands were shaking and she looked like she wanted to cry but didn't have the strength to. Santana motioned for her to sit down, which she did promptly. She covered her face with her hands.

"Matthew...one of the other servants...he found me last night and brought me to him. He said that...that the boy was saying 'Brittany' and 'Mary'. Mary is my sister." Brittany explained. Santana sat quietly. Brittany never talked about her family, it was probably too painful a memory for her to recall. Brittany sniffed and took a deep breath.

"When I saw him...I didn't recognize him. The more I look, though, the more he looks like my mother. I asked him...I asked him what his name was. He said 'Nathan Pierce'." Brittany looked up, her blue eyes overflowing with tears. "That's my brother, Miss. Nathan Pierce is one of my brothers." She broke down crying and Santana sat there not knowing how to comfort her.

"I found my family...one of them at least..." Brittany sobbed, wiping her tears away even though fresh ones sprung up just as quickly. "And now I'm going to lose him!"

"You're not going to lose him, Brittany." Santana promised. "My father's the best doctor in the entire country. He saved Prince Finn when no other doctor could. He'll save your brother."

"I don't want to lose my brother again." Brittany sounded like she was choking on her tears and Santana felt something in her chest turn, as if someone had stabbed her through. She hadn't seen Brittany cry since they were young. Brittany was always smiling, she was always happy. Seeing her in this state almost brought Santana to tears as well.

"Brittany..." Santana whispered. She wanted to hug her servant, to stroke her back and her hair and let her know that everything was going to be alright. But status prevented her from doing so. She was afraid that wandering eyes would see them. Instead, she reached over and looped her pinky with Brittany's. Brittany's sobs stopped for a moment and she looked down at their intertwined fingers. She looked back up at Santana, who failed to meet her eyes. She was staring at their hands determinedly, as if focusing all of wish to comfort Brittany into that small gesture. Brittany sniffed.

"Everything will be ok." Santana said. Brittany wiped her eyes. Just knowing that her Mistress was reaching out to her both physically and emotionally was enough to make Brittany feel better. She stopped crying but she kept hiccuping and she put a hand over her mouth to stifle it.

An hour passed. All of the servants got up. It was hard to miss the Duke standing in the dining hall, hovering intently over a small boy. But Matt and Mike ushered the servants on, telling them to mind their own business or better, get to their own business. The Duke was able to work quietly. Brittany was exempt from her morning chores and she waited with Santana by her side. Finally the door opened and Santana quickly pulled her hand away from Brittany's. The Duke walked out, wiping sweat from his brow. Brittany stood up, worry clouding her eyes as she silently pleaded with him for information. He sighed.

"I stayed with him. The fever's gone down and I've treated all of his infections. He should be fine with some rest and plenty of food. Brittany, you may stay with him for today if you wish. If anything should change, call me at once." He said.

"I don't know how to thank you, Master Lopez." Brittany whispered.

"You saved someone very important to me." The Duke said, glancing at Santana. "I am more than happy to return the favor." Brittany nodded. She looked back at Santana who nodded and went into the dining room. Santana inhaled deeply and looked at her father appreciatively.

"You'll have to live without her." Her father joked privately. Santana watched Brittany sit beside the sleeping figure of her brother. "How will you manage?" Santana let out the breath she had been holding. She looked troubled and her father immediately regretted his statement without having reason to. Her expression reverted to a neutral state again quickly.

"I will manage somehow, father." She replied all too seriously before walking away towards her room to get dressed. Her father stared after her with a confused expression. He only meant his statement in jest. Why did it seem like his daughter was taking it for truth?

Santana sat down on her bed. She couldn't sleep. Her father's words had triggered a new fear in her mind. Brittany had found her family again. It should've been a joyous occasion but Santana knew the implication. If Brittany found her family, would she return to them? Santana lay down on her bed and curled up. She tried to imagine life without Brittany but her servant was so ingrained into her life that she couldn't do it. She brought her hand up to her mouth and bit down, as if trying to wake herself from a dream. She bit so hard that it left deep imprints in the skin and she released her hand and let it drift down to her side. This was her home, this was Brittany's home. How could she leave it?

"She can't." Santana whispered to herself. "She can't leave." The door opened and Santana sat up. For a brief moment, she hoped that it was Brittany who had somehow heard or felt the turmoil stirring in Santana. Instead, a timid, short brunette servant who looked slightly familiar, walked in. She was a little older than Santana but Santana never bothered to remember anyone who wasn't Brittany.

"Miss Santana? I'm here to take care of you." The servant quietly said. Santana got up and stood straight. It was unbecoming of her to act anything but dignified around servants. She turned around and waited. It took a moment but the servant soon figured out that she wanted to get dressed. But her touches were foreign, the way she tugged on the sleeves were uneven. She didn't know Santana and Santana didn't know her. She didn't know how to perfectly tie up the back of Santana's dress, it was too tight. Santana closed her eyes and tried to imagine that Brittany was next to her. But when the servant tugged too hard on the string, Santana whirled on her.

"You're not doing that right!" She yelled. The servant recoiled in fear. "Do it again!" The servant quickly undid the lacing and redid it. This time it was too loose and Santana wanted to shout at her again. But it wasn't her fault. Brittany simply knew Santana. They'd grown up together. Brittany had watched her grow from a tiny little girl into a beautiful young woman. And Santana had done the same. They had watched each other through these six years.

"That's enough." Santana said, her voice a little quieter than usual. The servant stepped away. "Please leave now." The servant bowed and rushed out of her room. Santana sat in front of her mirror and stared at her reflection. She was so used to seeing Brittany beside her that it seemed strange to only have one person staring back.

"She has yet to make a decision." Santana said to herself. "This is her home, she won't easily leave it." She picked up her hair brush and ran it through her hair.

* * *

Brittany listened to Nathan's steady breathing. She pushed back his hair and looked at him. He had grown since she last saw him. He was still skinny, as expected, but he looked less thin than when she left them. She wondered if her family had fared well after her father has sold her. She wondered if he'd used that money to take them far away and they had prospered where ever they lived. But what was Nathan doing here? Was her family close by then? How did he get so hurt? Brittany breathed in and out as evenly as she could. Once Nathan woke up, he would be able to answer her questions.

"Hello." A voice said from the doorway. Brittany looked up. Puck was standing, leaning against the arch. Behind him, it was bright outside, letting Brittany know that she'd been sitting there for a lot longer than she thought she had been.

"Puck...what are you..."

"I wanted to see how you were doing." Puck replied. "I heard...I thought it was just gossip. But then Noel told me." He nodded his head towards Nathan. "I heard he is your brother."

"He is." Brittany replied. "I'm waiting for him to awaken." Puck walked towards her and sat down very close to her. His eyes were on Nathan so he missed the slight blush that crept along Brittany's cheeks. She hadn't forgotten what Noel had said to her just the other day. His proximity, his heat, the smell of the stable on his clothes and skin, all of that sharpened with that knowledge. She glanced down at his arms. They were tan, a little dry but very strong.

"How did this happen?" Puck asked.

"I don't know. I hope he wakes up soon, there is a lot I wish to ask." Brittany answered.

"It's good that you found your family." He said. "I'm sure you've missed them."  
"I miss them every day and I hope they are well." Brittany patted Nathan's head again. "Maybe I will get to see them again." Puck fidgeted in place. He glanced down at his hands and then back at Brittany.

"What will you do if you find them again? Will you leave us and join them?" He asked. Brittany remained quiet. The thought had crossed her mind, it was true, but she tried not to think about it. She wanted to deal with that when it came but now that Puck was asking, she couldn't help but wonder.

"I...I'm not sure." She replied. Puck looked down again.

"I lost my family when I was young." He admitted. "They died of illness. My father ran away and my mother and sister...they succumbed to sickness." Brittany regarded him sadly. He lifted his head and their eyes met.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

"There was nothing I could do. I was too young. But then...the stable master found me on the streets and took me into his home. When he moved here, when the Duke assigned him to the stable, he took me with him."

"The Duke is a very kind and generous man." Brittany said. Puck smiled.

"What I mean to say is, if I were you, and I found my mother and sister again after so many years, I would be tempted to go back to them. The Duke would not object, as you said, he is kind and generous." Puck offered. "But we would miss you." Brittany looked into his dark eyes. A moment passed and Brittany felt her heart start to race. But Nathan let out a small groan and moved. Brittany snapped back to attention and stared down at him.

"Nathan, I'm here." She said, taking his hand. He groaned again and turned a little.

"I...I need..." Nathan whispered weakly. Brittany's pulse jumped. He was speaking, he was waking up. She put her hand on his forehead. His fever had almost disappeared.

"I'm here." She said again. Puck took this opportunity to stand up and leave. It was not his place to be there when Brittany's brother woke up. As he walked out, he almost missed Santana standing quietly against the wall. He jumped a little.

"Miss." He said, nodding curtly and hurrying off. Santana watched him with a slight glare. She wasn't oblivious to his reputation. She wasn't blind to the looks that he gave Brittany. She knew how he felt about her and she didn't like it. He was going to play with her, use her and then break her. A broken-hearted servant was not a productive servant and she wasn't going to allow for that to happen. She glanced inside where Brittany was completely focused on Nathan. The boy was stirring.

"Santana?" Her mother called. She whirled around. "Aren't you late for your French lessons?" In her head, she swore and outside, she let out an exasperated sigh.

"Yes mother." She cast one last look inside before walking with her mother to the lesson room.

Inside, Nathan's eyes opened a little and Brittany's heart jumped.

"Nathan?" She whispered. He looked at her through his partially open eyes. He studied her, breathing heavily and letting out small groans of pain every so often.

"Who...who are you?" He asked. Tears sprung to Brittany's eyes and she took his hand.

"Nathan, it's me. Brittany. It's your sister." His eyes opened a bit more.

"Bri...Brittany?" He asked. Brittany kissed his hand as tears over flowed down her cheeks. She nodded. "You...you're safe...?"

"I've been safe, Nathan. I'm here." He let out another moan of pain and went back to sleep. Brittany kissed his hand again and let her forehead rest against his fingers. It felt like she was going to burst from so many overwhelming emotions spiraling through her. She wanted him to wake up again and tell her everything. But she'd waited six years, she would wait a little longer.

* * *

Santana didn't pay any attention in her lessons. Her eyes wandered outside, beyond the room, beyond the window and into the open air. She couldn't focus on any one thing. Maybe they could take her brother in too. Maybe that was all she had left of her family. They could always use another hand around here.

"Mademoiselle Lopez!" Her French instructor yelled. "Please, pay attention! This is a very important lesson, one you will find of use when and if you marry into royalty!" Santana shrugged.

"I apologize. Yesterday's encounter has left me...rather distracted." She said. The instructor dropped her book.

"I see. Well, I heard about it and I'm very sorry to hear that it happened. Perhaps we should continue our lesson another time, then?" She asked. Santana nodded. She knew her instructor was thinking about her encounter with the dog and she didn't bother to correct her. If her lessons ended early, all the better. She looked by the door where her timid servant for the day stood. She rolled her eyes in disgust. She wanted Brittany back, someone who would cheer her up after the boredom she endured.

Her music teacher was not as kind. He had a bit of a temper, and Santana found it annoying every time his whiskers twitched when she hit the wrong note on the piano. He was not so forgiving or understanding.

"Put your emotions into playing! If you felt fear, convey it!" He insisted.

"I just want to lay down." She said. "It's been a tiring and troubling day for me."

"Then put it into music!" He said, thrusting his arms out dramatically. Santana sighed and tapped a few non-enthusiastic notes.

It was well into the afternoon when her lessons finally concluded. Her new servant followed her and she scampered more than she walked. Santana missed the ease and grace when Brittany walked beside her. They would make light conversation about the day, Brittany would make fun of each and every instructor and Santana would laugh in turn at her jesting. But now, she cast a glare at the servant, she was stuck with someone who didn't even know how to speak two words to her apart from, "wait, Miss!"

"I think I'll be quite fine for the rest of the day." Santana snapped. The servant recoiled.

"But Miss...your father says you have your personal servant follow you wherever you go." She pointed out. Santana frowned.

"Yes, but understand, she has been with me since I was young. I bought her as my birthday gift, I did not buy you. If my father complains, tell him that you had run off. But if you're smart enough, I'm sure you won't need to explain to him why you are not with me."

"But Miss."

"Either you take your chances hiding from my father, or you take your chances with me." Santana was rightly annoyed. She didn't know why it was so difficult for her to understand that she simply did not want her to follow. If anyone was going to follow her, it was going to be Brittany.

The servant looked scared and didn't move for a moment. Then she bowed low and scurried off like a mouse. Santana let out a relieved sigh and continued on her way.

* * *

The next time Nathan woke, it was more permanent. He stirred, opened his eyes and groaned. Brittany stood up and looked over him.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"I'm fine...I..." He looked at her and his eyes widened. "Brittany?" His voice was small and weak but it was clear. Brittany kissed his hand.

"Yes. Yes, Nathan, it's me. It's your sister."

"Impossible..." He whispered. "You...you were taken away by the Count..."

"No, Nathan. I was rescued." She said. Nathan tried to sit up but he cried out in pain and fell back. Brittany gripped his hand. "Don't move, you are badly injured."

"I'm...I'm glad you're safe." He said. Tears pricked at the edge of his eyes. "I thought...I thought he had taken you."

"No. My Mistress rescued me. She bought me from the Count the day father..." She stopped when she remembered her father.

"Mistress?" Nathan asked.

"Yes, Mistress Santana Lopez. She bought me, she saved me. I serve her now." Brittany went on. Nathan's eyes opened wide again.

"Surely not Duke Lopez?" He asked. Brittany nodded and smiled through her tears. Nathan smiled too and then he began laughing. But the laughing caused him to dissolve into fits of coughing. Brittany stroked his head.

"Who did this to you?" Brittany asked. Nathan's smile turned into a frown and his eyes darkened. "Nathan, who hurt you this badly?"

"Count Baste." He hissed. Brittany's blood ran cold. She thought she had heard the last of that wretched name. But here the Count was again, hurting her and her family. She set her jaw and tried not to think about him.

"But...but why?"

"I went to save you and Mary." Brittany froze and her face turned yet another shade paler.

"Mary? What do you mean?" She knew and feared the answer.

"He took Mary!" Nathan began weeping and he brought his other hand to clasp Brittany's. "After...after father took you away, he came back. He had bought us all food but mother wouldn't allow any of us to eat it. She was crying hysterically, saying that the money was blood money and was cursed. At midday, the Count came to our house, demanding that we hand over Mary. Father refused so the Count beat him. He said that he paid more than enough to buy three more of us peasants and that father was lucky he didn't take more of his children. Mother tried to reason with him, tried to tell him that Mary was too young."

"He didn't take Mary when she was a baby, did he?" Brittany breathed.

"No, mother convinced him to wait until she was older. The Count left after that, promising that he would be back to take her some day. Father made us move immediately. We didn't bring anything with us, we just fled." Nathan coughed.

_That's why the messenger couldn't find them that night. That's why they were gone..._Brittany thought to herself.

"We hid ourselves for six years. Father wouldn't allow his only other daughter to be taken as well."

"How did he find you?" Nathan looked over at her. His eyes were red from crying.

"The same way he found you. Not long ago, he rode through our new town and he nearly ran over little Mary. Father ran out into the street and that's when the Count spotted him. He recognized father instantly. He grabbed Mary, took her into the carriage and rode off. Father tried to chase him down but he couldn't. Father tried to tell the town guards but Count Baste was too powerful. No one could do anything." Nathan gripped Brittany's hand and he blinked as more tears leaked out of his eyes. Brittany felt her body grow numb and she cried silently.

"So you set off to save her." Nathan nodded.

"I got to his estate and tried to find Mary. But his guards found me first. They brought me to Count Baste who beat me almost to death. Then they took me and propped me on one of their horses. They rode with me for hours and then dropped me on some unfamiliar land far from the Count's estate. They left me for dead but I managed to get to my feet. I don't know how long I walked...and that's when I found this estate and you." Nathan reached up and touched her cheek.

"Don't worry. I will get Mary back." Brittany said, sniffing. She offered a weak smile. Nathan's brows furrowed.

"How?"

"I'll talk to the Duke, he's sure to understand, he's sure to help us. He helped me, he will help our sister." She stood up and let go of his hand. Nathan closed his eyes again, exhausted. "I won't be gone long." She wiped her eyes and marched out of the room with determination.

* * *

Santana was sitting in the library, casually reading when she saw Brittany walk by. Her face was red from crying and she was walking very briskly towards something. Santana closed her book and cautiously peered around the corner. Brittany walked straight up to the Duke who was on his way to a meeting with the King and Master Fabray to discuss financial matters.

"Duke." Brittany dropped to her knees and touched her forehead to the ground." The Duke stopped and stared down at her, surprised.

"Brittany!" He exclaimed.

"Please, help me." Brittany begged. The Duke bent down.

"Is it your brother?" He asked. "What's wrong?"

"It's my sister, Duke. The Count has taken her, just like he meant to take me." Brittany looked up and she was openly sobbing. The Duke's eyes showed concern.

"Your sister?" He echoed.

"My young sister, she can't be more than six! Count Baste has taken her away from my family, he kidnapped her. Please, you must help me." Santana covered her mouth in shock as she watched the scene unfold in front of her. The Duke helped her to her feet and she tried to brush the tears away.

"Brittany, listen to me. I understand that this is difficult. If I had my way, the Count would be long stripped of power and wealth to prevent this kind of thing." Brittany stared at him, uncomprehending. "But as it stands, I cannot do anything. I do not govern him."

"But you helped me!" She said in a high voice.

"Yes, Brittany, I helped you. And I overstepped my bounds. But I cannot go marching up to his estate and demand that he release your sister. I simply cannot. No doubt he has already paid enough high ranking officials to say that Mary was legally obtained. The Count is no fool when it comes to this and I cannot bring charges against him when he has a dozen men of greater rank than your father saying otherwise. That is beyond my power."

"You have to help!" Brittany shouted, not even caring that she was raising her voice to someone leagues above her in status. But the Duke's eyes narrowed.

"I cannot help you, Brittany." He said. "And I caution you against raising your voice to me. Do not mistake me, I am grateful to you for saving my daughter. But this is a matter of personal nature, and I simply cannot interfere." Brittany broke into open sobbing and she covered her face with both hands. The Duke's expression softened.

"My sister, my baby Mary..." Brittany choked. The Duke placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I will put in a word with the King. I will do my best, Brittany, but I cannot guarantee anything. What the Count does beyond the court, I cannot dictate. I am truly, truly sorry." He patted her on the shoulder again and kept walking. He hated the Count, most people detested him, but what he told Brittany was true. Unless the King himself were to intervene, it was a lost cause. He'd seen what had happened to another man who tried to insist that the Count had forcibly taken his daughter. The man was beheaded for "slander" even though it was well known among the commoners that the Count had done such a thing. He looked back at Brittany over his shoulder and the girl had sunk to her knees, crying uncontrollably. His kind heart could not take it so he turned his head forward. He had a very important meeting and he could not let this go to his head.

Santana stepped out in front of him, having witnessed the entire conversation. Her eyes burned with anger.

"Why can't you help her?" She hissed.

"Santana, it is unbecoming of a lady to eavesdrop." He replied.

"Brittany saved my life! Why can't you help her!"

"I did, I saved her brother's life." The Duke replied. "Believe me, I would like nothing more than to bring her sister back. But the Count plays dirty. He knows how to cover his tracks, he knows that his word will be worth more than all of her family's combined."

"Then use your word!" Santana said.

"I cannot risk my status and my reputation for a commoner." He replied. "Now go, before I get more cross than I already am." He walked away from her. His words brought Santana crashing back to reality. As close as they were, her father was right. They were just commoners. Her family had no business interfering with the problems of people beneath them.

But as Santana watched Brittany cry on the floor, she couldn't help but feel as though if she were her father, she would risk that reputation just to bring back the smile on Brittany's face.

* * *

Santana was just getting ready for bed when the door opened. She looked over and saw Brittany peering in.

"You can come in." Santana said. Brittany walked in and closed the door behind her quietly. "Is your brother doing well?"

"Yes, Miss." Brittany whispered. Her voice was hoarse from crying and her eyes slightly puffy. Santana glanced over, feigning indifference but seeing her servant like that hurt her in a way that she'd never hurt before.

"Is everything alright?" Brittany shook her head. "Well out with it." Santana's eyes dropped and she saw a tiny satchel in Brittany's hands. Her gaze flew back up to Brittany's face.

"I need to save my sister." Brittany croaked. "I can't leave her to that fate." Santana stood up.

"You will go nowhere!" She ordered. Brittany looked up, her eyes shining with sadness. "You cannot go by yourself."

"You don't understand, Miss. Mary is only six, I cannot have her...I...I need to save her." Brittany insisted. Santana stomped her foot like an angry child.

"You cannot go! I will try to convince my father again tomorrow morning." Brittany shook her head.

"I cannot wait on this matter, Miss. I'm sorry. I understand if you do not want me to serve you after this, but it is something I must do." She bowed low and turned around to leave. Santana leapt towards her and grabbed her arm. She spun Brittany around who looked surprised at her action.

"Wait. Wait. If you must go, I will go with you." Santana said.

"No, Miss! It will be dangerous! And your father, the Duke, what will he say?" Santana shrugged.

"You are my gift, remember? I bought it from the Count and I will not give you back to him if it comes to that. I am the daughter of the Duke, my word must have some weight to it, no? If you were to go alone, and if you were to get caught, he would not let you leave so easily. But if I am in your company..." She trailed off a little. She hoped that no harm would come to either of them if she were to let on that she was the daughter of Duke Lopez but she couldn't be sure.

"I cannot let..."

"I am coming with you and that is that. Another word of objection and I will shout for my father." Santana said firmly. She turned around. "Now help me get dressed." Brittany smiled despite herself and she looked down, slightly embarrassed. Her Mistress was going so far to protect her as she had always done.

"Thank you, Miss."


	8. Part 1: Forgive Me, Father

They had walked about five miles when Santana realized that they had no plan of action and that what they were doing was probably the stupidest thing she could've done. She stopped in her tracks. Brittany stopped as well, looking back at her Mistress with a confused expression.

"Is something wrong Miss? Are you tired? We can rest for a bit." Brittany said. They had woken up early, before anyone else and started their journey. Santana convinced Brittany that traveling in the dead of night was not wise given how easily they could've gotten lost in the dark. They had gotten a little sleep, but not much.

"No, I'm fine, Brittany." She replied. "I just...I'm sure my father will come around." Brittany's expression fell.

"Are you having doubts, Miss? You can still walk back." She said. Santana shook her head.

"It's not that. Well, I just believe that my father needed time to think. We're two girls, Brittany. What are we going to do once we get there?" Santana asked.

"Save my sister." Brittany replied as if it were the simplest answer in the world. Santana frowned and heaved a sigh. She looked around, half hoping that some sort of miracle would fall from the sky. But when nothing extraordinary happened, she turned back to face Brittany.

"This is unwise. We really should go back."

"Miss, you may go back if you wish." Brittany said firmly. "But I will not let my sister stay there another day. Not when...not when that man is there." She visibly shivered at the thought.

"What if you get caught?" Santana demanded. "This is folly. I will go talk to the prince, surely he can..."

"Miss, please." Brittany said. She could not meet her mistress's eyes. "Pardon me if I speak out of turn but you forget." She gave a weak smile. "I know my place. I am a peasant, a servant. And I understand you want to help, but no one would help someone of my class." Santana did not reply. She knew exactly what Brittany meant. Now that she brought it up, Santana knew, no matter what influence she had on the prince or even the king, they would not help someone of Brittany's class. If they did, they would have every peasant to the edge of the kingdom demanding that the prince himself take care of their personal matters.

If only Brittany had been born of even minor nobility, things would be different. But then again, Santana remembered, if Brittany had been of any other class, she never would've met her.

"I'm sorry." Santana said.

"No, Miss, don't worry." Brittany smiled sadly. "I'm honored that you would concern yourself with someone like me." She looked up at Santana. "You should...you need to go back. Your father will be worried sick, as will your mother."

"You're right." Santana reaffirmed. Brittany nodded slowly and turned around. "Wait, Brittany." Brittany stopped and turned around. "I'm still coming with you." Santana didn't understand why she did it. Perhaps it was to get away from the droll of her life, perhaps it was indeed for Brittany. She just knew she couldn't let Brittany go by herself.

"Miss, you can't..."

"Do not order me around." Santana said authoritatively. "Besides, you don't even know where you are going, do you?" Brittany paused. The entire time she had been following Santana, who seemed to know the way to the Count's estate. When she stopped to think about it, she had no idea in which direction to even begin walking. She hung her head, ashamed. She had run off so quickly that she hadn't thought anything out, much less how she was going to get there. All she thought of was saving her sister.

Sensing that she had proved that Brittany could not do without her, Santana smiled a little.

"Besides," she added. "You are my property, don't forget that. And I have a duty to see that no harm comes to my belongings." Brittany knew that tone of voice. It was the tone of finality, the tone that Santana used on everyone around her. Santana used it to gain the upper hand and she succeeded each and every time. Brittany knew Santana would not back down from this. She cast a glance down.

"I'm not worthy of this...of this assistance."

"Don't think of it as an assistance." Santana said curtly. "Remember, I am only here to foresee that nothing happens to you. I am not actively going to help you get your sister back. If the Count just so happens to see me with you, and supposing my presence is enough to win her back, then it is mere coincidence." Brittany felt so happy she wanted to hug Santana. But that would be overstepping her bounds on far too great a level. Instead, she bowed so that Santana could not see the tears of relief in her eyes. She had been scared to go alone. She wasn't sure how the Count would react if she showed up, whether he would do the same thing he did to Nathan, or worse, she couldn't be certain. But with Santana by her side, she felt safer. Santana's status made her near untouchable and just having her there was a comfort Brittany couldn't describe.

"Thank you, Mistress." She said. Deep down, she knew it was wrong. To take someone of Santana's birth and trek with her across the country on a personal endeavor would land someone like her behind stone walls for a long time. But she knew Santana would not be persuaded otherwise.

"Every second we spend standing around is another second your little sister has to spend with...with that man." Santana said, making a disgusted face. She was far too proud to back down now. Her honor as a noble would not allow her to retract a promise and whether she liked it or not, whether it was appropriate or not, she had made a promise to Brittany to stay by her side. She strode forward determinedly and Brittany stood up straight. Seeing her Mistress's strong back, and her figure leading the way renewed hope in her heart that maybe, even a chance in a million, maybe she would be able to rescue her sister.

They walked along the dirt road, far removed from the main road so that they wouldn't be seen. Brittany could've passed as a commoner but Santana certainly could not. Even without her expensive clothing, she carried an air of respectability that made anyone who saw her stop in their tracks. Brittany smiled to herself, thinking that there really wasn't anyone she would rather have as a travel partner.

It was as if the heavens themselves wanted the two to journey that day. The sun was bright, although not too much so. Clouds dotted the sky, providing some relief from the otherwise blistering sun. A breeze blew with them as they walked, as if coaxing them forward. Santana took in as much as she could. When she traveled, it was mostly in the confines of a carriage where she had to strain to look out the window at the quickly passing scenery. Now that she was walking, the sky seemed bluer, the sun warmer. Different smells pervaded the air, the smell of fresh grass, of the flowers just coming into bloom. She closed her eyes and listened to the birds as they sang.

While Santana took in her surroundings, Brittany watched Santana with a smile on her face. Santana was so good to her. Brittany was thankful everyday that Santana was the one who saved her. Brittany rarely saw Santana so calm and at peace. Most of the time Santana had her guard up. She liked Santana much better like this, her expressions weren't fake. Santana opened her eyes and turned her head to Brittany.

"What are you staring at? Is there something on my face?" She asked, bringing a hand up to her cheek. Just then, they walked directly into a patch of sunlight and it hit Santana in a way that made her glow. Brittany's breath caught in her throat when she saw. My mistress is the most beautiful woman I've ever met. Brittany thought. How did she not notice it before? Her mistress had high cheekbones, dark olive, smooth skin and eyes like gold in the light. She wondered why the prince wasn't clamoring at their doorstep to wed her.

"Brittany?" Santana said. "What is it? Are you alright? Is it too hot?" Brittany shook her head to clear her mind.

"Nothing, miss. I got distracted."

"You are sure you are alright?" Santana asked again.

"You needn't concern yourself with me, miss. If anyone, should be tired, it should be you." She pointed out. Santana crossed her arms and frowned.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She demanded.

"I didn't mean any disrespect, miss." Brittany quickly attempted to remedy her statement. "It is just that you are of such noble birth, to have you walk this far, it must be...tiring."

"I can walk just as far as any commoner. Do not insinuate that I am out of shape!" Santana said indignantly. Brittany laughed at her sudden outburst, which only served to infuriate Santana more.

"I'm sorry, Miss, please, forgive me." Brittany giggled.

"You dare laugh at me? Don't forget who I am!" Santana replied. Brittany bowed her head but mostly to conceal her laughter.

"I'm very, very sorry, Miss. I won't do it again." She apologized. Santana still detected mirth in her voice and she opened her mouth to comment when a sudden downpour started drenching them. They yelped simultaneously and ran towards the nearest cover, an outcropping of rocks in the woods. When they were safely out of the rain, Brittany wrung her hair.

"It was so nice!" Santana exclaimed. "There wasn't a cloud in the sky!"

"That was quite sudden, wasn't it?" Brittany agreed. She fished out a handkerchief from her pocket and began drying Santana's hair and face. Santana looked over at her.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"You're soaked." Brittany remarked as she dabbed her cheek with the cloth. Brittany concentrated on drying off her mistress but Santana couldn't help but stare at Brittany's face. Beads of water dripped from her wet hair and ran down her skin. Santana wanted to reach out and brush the tiny droplets away. She averted her gaze suddenly but Brittany didn't notice. How could she think such a thing? To reach out and touch a servant like that...she wouldn't even dream of doing that with someone of her class.

"So are you." Santana mumbled. Brittany withdrew her hand, a little surprised by Santana's atypical manner. Santana always spoke clearly and eloquently, it was in her nature and if it wasn't in her blood, it was driven into her by her instructors. To hear her speak so softly and incoherently was close to troubling.

"Are you feeling alright?" Brittany asked. Santana rolled her eyes.

"I'm quite alright, Brittany. I was merely commenting that we are both drenched from the sudden rain and goodness, no one ever caught a cold so fast!" She snapped, resuming a defensive tone of voice. Brittany wondered if she had simply imagined the whole thing. She began drying Santana's hair. Santana started feeling uncomfortable but she couldn't tell if it was because of her previous thought or if it was because her clothes were clinging to her body.

"You can stop now." Santana ordered.

"But Miss..." Brittany objected. "You are still..."

"I'm fine, attend to yourself." She said. Brittany put her handkerchief away and sat down on one of the rocks. She looked up towards the sky.

"Rain like this goes by quickly." Brittany remarked. Santana "hmphed" and sat down next to her. For a while, they listened as the rain fell around them rhythmically. A clap of thunder sounded above them and even though it wasn't particularly loud, Santana seized up. Brittany looked over at her mistress, who was gripping her arms as if they were going to fall off.

"Miss?"

"Don't say a word." Santana said. Another soft clap of thunder sounded and Santana curled inward. It didn't take much for Brittany to catch on.

"Miss, are you..."

"Yes, Brittany, I'm slightly scared of thunder. What if a bolt of lightning strikes us? Then what?" Santana demanded. Brittany fought back a laugh, which wasn't hard when she saw just how hard Santana was shaking.

"Miss."

"Please don't...please don't laugh." Santana said.

"Miss, I would never." Brittany said. Overhead, another clap of thunder sounded, only this time it was closer and louder than before. Santana let out a small scared cry and covered her ears with her hands.

"Make it go away!" Santana pleaded. Whenever it thundered, she always hid in her room where it was safe. But now that she was outside and exposed to the elements, she was terrified. Brittany bit her lip. She thought of the best way to help Santana.

"Miss?" She reached over against her better judgment as a servant and grasped Santana's hands with her own. Santana's eyes snapped open as Brittany moved to kneel on the damp ground in front of her. "Miss, may I tell you a story?" Santana nodded dumbly. She was all too aware of Brittany's warm hands enveloping hers. They were smoother than she thought they would be, especially for a servant. And how could they be so damn warm?

"G-go on." Santana said. She look nervously towards the sky.

"I was scared of the thunder too when I was younger. My mother told me that the thunder was simply there to scare away the rain. Thunder is meant to be scary so that it can stop raining and let the sun shine again."

"It's plenty bright out." Santana pointed out. "Do you really believe that?" She looked down at their hands, still clasped together. Brittany smiled reassuringly.

"Miss, God would not strike someone like you down with lightning. You are far too kind and beautiful to leave this world." Santana looked up and brown eyes met blue ones. A violent shiver traveled down Santana's spine, as if she indeed had been struck. Without quite knowing that she did it, she closed her hands around the tips of Brittany's fingers. Brittany's eyes searched Santana's and Santana searched back. They were looking for something in each other yet neither had any idea what that something was.

Thunder rumbled again and Santana instinctively pulled her hands away from Brittany's and put them close to her ears. Brittany stood up quickly and looked behind her at the sky.

"It's stopping!" She announced. Santana looked up as well, trying her very best to concentrate on the sky and not Brittany. Santana stood up and peered from under the outcropping. "My mother's always right. The thunder did scare away the rain." She flashed a grin at Santana and walked out from their temporary shelter. Santana followed. Brittany twirled around in the sun.

"We'll dry faster!" She said. Santana marveled at how carefree Brittany seemed. She felt a little embarrassed by her actions a minute ago but Brittany seemed to have forgotten already.

"Come on, Brittany, we still have a long way to go." She said, bringing Brittany crashing back to reality. Her smile fell and she nodded.

"Yes, Miss." She replied. The two walked in silence and Santana found herself feeling more awkward around Brittany, even more than she had when Brittany first started working at the estate. She attributed the feeling to having bared a vulnerable and slightly childish side of her. In an effort to break the tension between them, which Santana convinced herself was just a figment of her imagination, fished for topics.

"You've never spoken about your family." She said. "This was the first time you've done so, aside from your brother of course." Santana immediately regretted the topic of conversation. Ever since the day when Brittany discovered that her family had disappeared, she hadn't so much as mentioned them. She searched Brittany's face for any sign that she had crossed a line. But Brittany's expression was unchanged. Silence passed between them and Santana hoped she hadn't killed any chance of small talk between them.

"I have five brothers and one sister. I don't know how many have survived to this day. When I left, my youngest brother, Colin, took ill right before..." She stopped and composed herself. The memory was burned into her mind; the day that her father had sold her. "Before my father took me to the auction house."

"He's a horrible man." Santana said angrily. "What kind of father would do that?"

"My father was a simple cobbler and shoemaker." Brittany said. "He had eight mouths to feed even if he starved himself. He...he worked hard every day. My brothers, the ones who were old enough, we begged on the street but it was never enough." Santana listened intently. Brittany had never talked to such an extent about her life before she became Santana's servant. Santana gathered that they were poor, but she never imagined that they would be that desperate.

"I understand what he was doing when he sold me. You have to understand, if he didn't, we all would've died." Santana opened her mouth to comment that it didn't matter, that Brittany's father had no right to do what he did. But the look on Brittany's face stopped Santana. Who was she to judge? She had been born with everything a child could want. She didn't understand the hardships of living on the streets. So she said something different.

"Tell me about your brothers and sister." She suggested. Perhaps that would be a happier subject.

"They were all angels." Brittany said, brightening a tiny bit. "There was Nathan, he was the oldest of all of them. He was always protecting the others if I wasn't there. No matter how big the other child was, he would fight tooth and nail." She looked up and her eyebrows scrunched together in thought.

"It's difficult to recall..." She said. "It's been so long. We were all so young. There was John, the second oldest, then Garrick. Finally the twins were named Daniel and Colin. Mary was born just a few weeks before I left." Santana's eyes widened. She wondered what it would've been like to have that many siblings. Being an only child, it was sometimes lonely and a small part of her wished she had as many brothers to play with when she was younger.

"So you see." Brittany looked at Santana. "My father had to feed all of them. He had no choice."

"You are making excuses for your father."

"Perhaps." Brittany's shoulders sagged. "But I can't bear it otherwise." Santana shut up. She understood. To think that one's father would sell his daughter for any reason other than saving the rest of the family would be even more heartbreaking than it already was.

"I would never sell you." Santana said. She couldn't think of any other way to tell Brittany that everything was going to be alright. "And we will get your sister back." Brittany nodded.

"I know. I trust you, Miss."

* * *

Though they had set out very early, before dawn even broke, it was late in the afternoon when they arrived at the stone steps of Count Baste's manor. Brittany shivered a little, looking at the house. The air around it was menacing. The curtains were a dark shade of purple and vines grew like claws around the windows.

"So we just march up and demand he release my sister?" Brittany asked. Santana nodded. She had hoped to think up a better plan than just that but she couldn't come up with anything.

"I assure you, it will be fine." Santana said. Together, they approached the large black doors. The man who answered their knock was a weasley man. He was tall and lanky and had hair only on either side of his head. He had a thing mustache that curled at the ends. The minute he opened the doors, the air of perfume and musk filled the air. Brittany suddenly remembered the young girl in the carriage the first time she saw the Count and suddenly realized what had occurred in the carriage before the Count stopped. The girl's eyes haunted her and it occurred to her that could have easily been her. Worse, it could be her little sister in a few years. She put a hand up to her mouth as bile rose in her throat.

"My name is Santana Lopez. I am the daughter of the Duke Lopez. I am here to see the Count to discuss business." The man sneered in her face and Santana felt like slapping him.

"The Count is far too busy to entertain guests, especially imposters like you."

"How dare you!" Santana shouted. "I am the Duke's daughter! You should be grateful that I would even show up at your doorstep!"

"Yes..." He replied, looking down at her muddy hem. "You most certainly look like the Duke's daughter." Santana opened her mouth to berate and threaten him when another voice from atop the steps interrupted her.

"LIONEL! What are you doing? That is the Duke's daughter!" The steward turned pale and opened the door wide.

"Please excuse me!" He said, bowing at the waist. "Forgive me...I..." Santana stepped into the estate. She looked up. She'd seen the Count before, but not since that day at the auction house. He had gotten fatter if possible, and he sweated profusely as he walked down the steps as if he had done some vigorous exercise just moments before. Santana shuddered to think what that was. As he neared, Brittany shrunk behind Santana and refused to lift her head. His smell was overbearing. The steward closed the door and the Count whispered something in his ear. The steward nodded and exited the room.

"To what do I owe this honor, Miss Lopez?" He made a move to kiss her hand but Santana waved him away.

"I am here on business." She announced. The Count rubbed his hands together and smiled greedily.

"Business, you say? Does your father know you are here? It isn't a lady's duty to conduct 'business'." He asked. Santana decided it was better to lie than to let on that she was here of her own accord.

"Of course!" She said. "My father is simply too busy to come here himself. He has much more important things to attend to." The Count smiled even wider and Santana tried her best not to squirm. His smile was evil and hid secrets she didn't want to know.

"Oh, I'm sure he is very busy." He said. "Please, will you have a seat?" He gestured to the seats off in a side room. Santana shook her head.

"It's a matter I...my father and I would like resolved as quickly as possible. You see, I need to get home."

"But it is so late." The Count insisted. "Please, stay the night. I have many a guest room you can use and we can discuss this business at our leisure." Santana shivered. She was not going to spend any longer in the estate than she had to. To say that the Count made her uneasy was an understatement.

"No, you see we must return tonight." Santana responded firmly. The Count nodded, the smile not fading from his face. Santana's hand balled up.

"Very well. What is it I may assist you with?" He asked. Santana took a deep breath. Now the real test of wills began.

"It has come to my attention that you have...acquired a...certain young girl recently." The Count nodded. Santana felt her confidence slip. Why didn't he seem concerned at all that she knew of is illegal acquisition of Mary? Surely if the Duke's daughter knew about it, then so much the Duke. It should've fazed him even a little. The Count shrugged.

"I acquire girls who need assistance every now and then. It is...a charitable thing to do. These girls are poor, starving and in need of a roof under their head. I provide everything they need." He said. Santana clenched her teeth.

"Yes...well...my father and I have heard that this girl was taken against her will." She said. He sighed and shook his head. Santana's blood ran cold. Something was very, very wrong. He was not reacting as Santana thought he would. She was telling him that she and her father knew of his crime and yet he was shaking his head as if she were telling him trivial matters.

"You will have to be specific. I-"

"SHE'S MY SISTER!" Brittany blurted loudly. The Count, who had previously been focused entirely on Santana, regarded Brittany with shock. He looked her up and down and recognition showed in his eyes.

"It's you..." He said.

"You took my sister from her family! Let her go!" Brittany yelled. She was shaking uncontrollably both out of fear and rage. Santana knew they had lost the upper hand with that revelation. She couldn't salvage it.

"You have gotten beautiful..." He whispered, staring at her with awe. "If I had you here..." Santana stepped in between them.

"You took her sister from her family. I demand that you return her." Santana ordered. The Count laughed in her face. He rested a hand on his stomach to control himself. When she finished, he sniffed and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that." He replied.

"What you did is a crime, it is kidnapping." Santana said forcefully. "My father will have you jailed."

"Your father cannot do anything against me." The Count snapped. "I have a dozen nobles who are witness to the transaction between that girl's father and myself."

"LIES!" Brittany screamed. "MY FATHER WOULDN'T DO THAT!"

"He did it with you, didn't he?" The Count replied coldly and Brittany went silent. "Your father came crawling to me for help. I found him in that small town, starving as expected. I made my offer again and he was all too happy to accept it. After all, what is a girl to a family but a burden? The boys can work but the girl? Just a mouth to feed." Santana put an arm on Brittany's shoulder to pull her back. No doubt she would've attacked, Santana herself felt like doing so.

"You hurt my brother. You nearly killed him." Brittany hissed. This time, the Count was surprised. He blinked and when the words registered, his eyes narrowed.

"Your brother has been fed the same lie you have." He explained. "He came to my estate to steal her back when I rightfully obtained your sister. He attacked my guards when they tried to remove him. Of course they retaliated." Tears fell from Brittany's eyes.

"He's lying." She whispered to Santana desperately. "He's lying..."

"I have a hard time believing you, Count." Santana said.

"And I think you'll find it harder to prove me wrong." He said. Knowing that she was cornered, Santana scrambled to come up with anything at all, anything to make good on her promise to Brittany. They had sorely underestimated the Count. The Count knew he had won the argument. He snapped his fingers and the steward opened a side door. He dragged a small brunette towards them. Brittany's eyes widened.

"Mary!" She shouted and ran over to her. The little girl did not recognize Brittany but she knew a friendly face when she saw it. When Brittany hugged her, she hugged back and cried.

"I want my mother! I want my father!" Mary sobbed. "I don't like it here!" Santana watched the reunion with a sinking feeling in her stomach. The Count turned his attention back to her.

"I am prepared to make you a deal. You and I both know that little girl is of no use to me. At least she won't be for another few years. I fear it will be more money and effort than it is worth to keep her. But I cannot let her go, you see. I paid good money for her." You are a liar. Santana thought bitterly but she said nothing. The Count continued.

"So how about this? You clearly want the girl and I want something in return." His eyes flicked over to Brittany and Mary. "I propose a fair trade. Your servant for that little girl." Santana's eyes widened.

"Never!" She snarled.

"Tsk, tsk. Very unlady like. What is your father teaching you?" The Count reprimanded. "I think it's a fair enough trade. You come into my estate, accuse me of crimes I did not commit. This should be more than fair."

"I would never give her to you."

"You can always get another servant." The Count shrugged. Santana's blood boiled.

"I'll do it." Brittany interjected. Santana's head whipped sideways as did the Count's. "I'll stay. Just let my sister go."

"Brittany!" Santana exclaimed.

"Then it's settled!" The Count boomed. He grinned and his yellow teeth sickened Santana. Brittany looked scared but determined.

"I would do anything to save my sister." Brittany promised, speaking to Santana.

"I can't let you do this. I can't! I'll talk to my father, he'll think of something!" Brittany shook her head and walked over, carrying little Mary.

"Santana, please..." She used Santana's name, not Miss, or Mistress. She simply called Santana by her name. Santana felt her own heart sink to the pit of her stomach. Brittany took in a deep breath. "Take Mary back to my family."

"I need you." Santana hissed. She felt sickened by the Count's amused stare. Brittany smiled sadly.

"You don't need me, Miss." She whispered back. "My sister is...my sister is far more important to me than anything I can think of. Please, just let me stay here." Santana shook her head violently.

"I won't allow it. This is preposterous! This...this man is going to get away with a crime! He's going to get everything he wants!" Santana pointed at Count Baste.

"He's right. We can't prove anything." Brittany said. "It's the only way to save my little sister." She looked directly into Santana's eyes. "I would never forgive myself if I didn't do this. Mistress, I beg you." Santana bit her lip to prevent herself from crying. She looked at the little girl, who had stopped crying and instead was biting on her thumb. She was so young, so scared. But Santana could not and would not give Brittany up.

"It grows late and my bed grows cold without at least two people to warm it." The Count said impatiently. "She has already agreed!" He took a step forward and grabbed into Brittany's arm.

Santana stopped thinking and did the most rash thing she had ever done. She grabbed the Count's sword and pulled it out. She slashed the hand he used to grab Brittany's arm. He yelled out in pain and jerked backward.

"RUN!" Santana screamed. Brittany did not need to be told twice. She bolted towards the door, little Mary in her arms. Santana stood there, sword in front of her, petrified.

"YOU LITTLE BITCH!" The Count launched himself at her. She tried to swing the sword but she had no practice with it. He caught it with one hand and pushed it away. With his other hand he back handed Santana so hard she fell on her side. The rings on his hand hit her skull and everything blurred. He knelt down over her and grabbed her by the hair. She looked over at the door, which had been flung open. When did that happen? She wondered. Did Brittany make it outside? She couldn't see very clearly but the steward was on the ground somehow and Brittany was close by. It was then that she noticed a figure standing over the steward. It was a male figure. He turned towards them and sprinted. She heard something akin to a lion's roar that shook her to her bones. Suddenly, the Count's hold on her hair loosened. She tried to focus on the figure who had appeared from no where. It was her father.

The Duke slammed the Count against the railing of the stairs with one hand. In his other hand, he held his sword, bloody. Santana looked back at the steward who was holding his side. Blood flowed onto the marble floor. She turned her attention back to the Duke. He had the Count by the collar. The Count had turned pale.

"You do NOT touch my daughter!" The Duke roared.

"Duke! Please, let me explain."

"No! You will not say anything! There is very little keeping me from running this sword through your fat stomach and letting you die here in your disgusting den of sin and filth!" The Duke yelled. Santana had never seen her father so angry. He threw him on the ground and pointed the tip of the sword in his face.

"Father..."

"Santana, get Brittany and the girl and meet me by the carriage." He ordered. Santana got to her feet shakily. Brittany walked over and with her free arm, steadied her mistress. Together, the three girls walked over to the gate to the estate where the carriage awaited. They waited inside, with Brittany holding her sister close as if she could lose her any second. After a few minutes transpired, the Duke got into the carriage. His face was contorted with rage. The carriage started moving.

"Father I-"

"I don't want to hear a single word from you, Santana." He hissed. "Do you know how stupid you were today? Do you have any idea what could've happened to you? I did not know I raised such an idiot of a daughter who think she can meddle in other people's affairs like this." His words stung at Santana and she could not look him in the eye.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

"Sorry? Sorry? Santana from now on you are forbidden to leave the estate grounds without my supervision. Furthermore, you are to have two servants follow you at all times." He ordered. Santana nodded.

"Duke, please, it wasn't her fault. She was simply trying to help me." Brittany pleaded. He turned his wrath on her. The Duke never got mad at Brittany.

"And you." He said coldly. "Do you have any idea what danger you put my daughter in for your selfish desires?" Brittany hung her head.

"Duke, forgive me."

"You are hereby relieved of your duty. When we get back to the estate, you are to pack your things and leave." Santana felt the pit of her stomach give out. She and Brittany looked at each other fearfully.

"Father!"

"You are no longer welcome at the Lopez estate, Brittany Pierce." Santana's heart pulled at her chest and she let out a sob. She was going to lose Brittany.


	9. Part 1: The Long Road

The Duke stormed into his study with Santana trailing after him. Her hands were balled into fists and her face was a picture of disbelief and rage. Behind her, her mother walked in, an beacon of eerie serenity in the otherwise turbulent atmosphere.

"You can't do this, father!" Santana cried. "Brittany is my personal servant! You cannot take her away!" Her father whirled on her.

"I am the head of this estate! You are my daughter, know your place!" He yelled. "Your mother's right. I've been far too lenient with you." Santana stopped a few feet in front of him. His hands were shaking with anger.

"Don't take it out on Brittany, I gave her no choice. Punish me, father."

"You...you keep forgetting that Brittany is below us. You keep forgetting that she is...is a servant." Her father flung his hands on in front of him in frustration. "Whether you forced her to take you with her, it matters not! She purposefully involved herself in the matters of the upper class! That is unacceptable! Do you even know what happens to a servant if she assaults someone like Count Baste?" Santana paled. She knew very well that Brittany could be put to death.

"But father, it was me." She said. "I assaulted him, not Brittany."

"Do not think you are immune simply because you are my daughter! You have severely jeopardized my status." The Duke sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry, father. I will never do anything like that again." She promised. "But please...please don't take Brittany away from me."

"This dependency is unhealthy and unnatural." Her mother chimed in. "Santana, she is not something you must have with you every minute of every day. Do you even listen to what the court whispers in every dark corner about you?"

"What do they say, mother? Tell me." Santana challenged.

"They say that you are incompetent, and that your 'affections' for your servant are unbecoming and undignified." Her mother said coolly. Santana's hand shook with rage. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she pressed her lips together in a vain effort to hold back her outcry.

"Mother, since when did you listen to court gossip?" Santana said, forcing the low volume of her voice. "We are the second most powerful family in the country, why..."

"Because if you do not start behaving as you should, then all my efforts will end with my death!" The Duke whirled around and slammed his head on his desk, causing both Santana and the Duchess to jump. The room went silent. The loudest thing in the room was the heavy breathing of the Duke as he struggled to reign in his temper. When he collected himself, he turned back around to face the two women.

"Santana, I have spent my whole life making sure that you marry someone who will give you everything you need. The Lord may take my status, my money, even my life as long as you have all the comforts the world can provide." He explained.

"Brittany is one of them, father! She is the only comfort I need!" Santana objected.

"She will ruin you." The Duke said. "I've tried to ignore the gossip, your mother knows I have as she is the main objector to my leniency. But this is going too far. To involve you in something so trivial..."

"Her family is not trivial!"

"Be quiet when I am speaking to you!" Her father yelled. Santana's shoulder sunk. "Do you even realize what they will say? This incident will not go unnoticed by the court, by high ranking members of society. Your actions will be known, that you helped a peasant assault a noble. As a duke, I cannot stand by to let your reputation suffer." He took a step towards her and ran his hand over her head lovingly.

"And as a father, I don't care if it was the prince himself who led you on this fool's errand, anyone who puts my daughter, my only, precious daughter, in danger will suffer."

"Don't make Brittany suffer, please..." He withdrew his hand. He looked at her expression. It hurt him more than anyone could ever know to see his daughter cry. He would've given anything in the world to make the tears stop. But he knew that unless he did this, unless he made Brittany the culprit, it would only hurt Santana later on. He looked up and saw the Duchess nod solemnly.

"Tell Brittany she and her family must leave immediately. I will supply a carriage for them but this is the only kindness I can afford." Santana opened her mouth to object but her father turned back around and sat down at his desk. "Please go now, Santana. I have nothing more to discuss with you." Santana's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a sob and she turned and ran out of the study. Her mother watched her go disapprovingly.

"You did the right thing." She said to the Duke. The Duke remained silent. Had it been anyone else, the consequences would've been more severe. But Brittany...she'd always been the little beacon of light that lit up the estate. No matter what happened, she was always smiling. If he had a difficult meeting with the other members of the King's council, just seeing her and her enthusiastic bow was enough to raise his spirits. He stared down at the papers he had to review but his decision weighed heavily on his head.

Santana ran up the stairs and flung the door open to Brittany's room. Only the old nanny resided there and she got to her feet when she saw Santana.

"Miss! What in the Lord's name is going on?" She asked.

"Have you seen Brittany?" She demanded.

"No, Miss, not since both of you went missing. Now will you tell me what on earth is going on?" Santana ignored her and ran out of the room. She hurried down the stairs and into the servant quarters. Brittany and her siblings were there. Nathan was sitting upright with a little help from Brittany. He was talking with Mary when Santana burst into the room.

"Miss!" Brittany stood up.

"Brittany..."

"I understand I am to leave by morning." She said. "I apologize for everything, Miss. I never should've taken you with me."

"I don't care about that!" Santana said. Nathan and Mary regarded her intensely. They'd never seen a noble cry before. Santana sniffed and brushed her tears away. "Brittany, you cannot leave."

"Miss, I am more than thankful that the Duke is even letting me walk away unscathed. What I did...what I've done...it is unacceptable. It was foolish but I was prepared to accept the consequences of my actions."

"You cannot leave. I order you to stay!" Santana commanded.

"Miss." She bowed her head so that Santana didn't have to see that she too was crying. It was bad form to cry in front of Santana. "I have no choice."

"I can hide you, I can help you! My father is simply overreacting. He'll understand in due time. You can hide in the stables or here." Brittany turned so that her back was facing Santana. Her brother and sister could see that she was crying but not Santana. But there was no mistaking how her voice shook.

"No, Miss. I've caused you far too much trouble to stay." She said. "I cannot burden you anymore." A man came up behind Santana and gently squeezed by.

"Miss Pierce?" He asked. Everyone's attention focused on him. "The carriage is ready. If you have gathered your things, then I will escort you out." Santana stared at him in shock.

"No! She is not going anywhere!" Santana said. The man turned and bowed.

"Miss, I have orders from the Duke to escort her and her siblings out." He said.

"Follow my orders!" Santana commanded. He shook his head sadly. Brittany motioned for him to walk closer.

"If you could carry my little brother and sister out, I would be grateful." She said. The man nodded and scooped up the little boy in his arms. "I need to get some of my things." The two of them walked out and Santana could only follow silently. She and Brittany walked up the stairs together in silence, neither of them making eye contact. It hurt to be around her servant, knowing she was leaving and Santana wanted nothing more than to hide her away until her father calmed down. But they both knew it wasn't an option.

Brittany for her part remained poised. She knew that the Duke had done more for her than she deserved. She was just thankful that she had rescued her sister.

"Brittany..." Santana started and then stopped. She had nothing to say. All the classes on how to speak in noble company failed her. She couldn't say anything to her servant. Brittany understood, however, what Santana was trying to communicate.

When they reached the room, the nanny was sitting in the bed, staring out of her window at the activity in front of the manor. Upon seeing Brittany, she stood up as quickly as her old body would allow and made her way slowly to them.

"Brittany..." She began but Brittany bowed to her respectfully and forced herself to smile.

"It's been a pleasure learning from you." She said. The old woman stared at her, uncomprehending what her meaning was.

"Tell me, child, what has happened?" She asked, placing her old wrinkled hand on Brittany's arm. Brittany shook her head.

"It is far too complicated a story for me to relay now. I..." She took a deep breath. "I'm leaving the Lopez estate."

"Why?" The old woman demanded, flabbergasted. "You were one of the best servants here and you are the only one capable of handling the young Miss!" She cast a concerned glance at Santana, whose head was tilted down. Brittany walked over to her drawers and started filling what precious few belongings she had in a small sack. Santana looked up just in time to see Brittany pack away all of the gifts that she'd given her over the past years; a comb, a looking glass, several pieces of jewelery and the necklace that she had last given her. She paused for a moment, then took out a frayed and faded ribbon. Santana recognized it as the very first gift she'd ever given Brittany. It was the gift that started their tradition. Brittany looked towards her and when their eyes met, Santana couldn't stand it. They had been through too much together. Santana remembered that she couldn't even last a day without Brittany, how was she supposed to live without her closest companion?

She walked out of the room and bit her hand. The pain was a welcome deterrent from any pathetic cries that would've escaped her lips. She shut her eyes tightly, praying to God that it was just a nightmare and that she would wake up to Brittany shaking her, telling it was time for breakfast.

Brittany sighed and put the last of her things into the sack. The old nanny regarded her with sad eyes. Brittany took the old woman's hand in hers.

"Thank you for everything." She said.

"Child...it is I who should be thanking you. It's in part due to you that the young Miss grew up as fine as she did."

"I thank you for flattering me."

"I do not compliment lightly. Child, you have a gift for bringing out the good in people. May you never lose that in life." The old woman pressed her cracked lips to the back of Brittany's hand. Her old eyes shone with regret that such a fine young woman was leaving her care. Brittany smiled weakly and pulled her hand away.

The nanny had become a grandmother to her, a maternal figure that Brittany modeled herself after. Even though she was going back to her family, one that she hadn't seen in years, it still felt like she was leaving her kin at the Lopez estate as well.

"If you see Noel, tell her I said goodbye." She said. She wished that she could've said a proper farewell to the woman who had been like a big sister to her. Noel was the first person to instruct her and teach her. It seemed wrong to leave without saying anything.

"I will do that, child." The nanny said. Brittany's eyes stung and she briskly left the room. As she exited, she stopped in front of Santana.

"I'll never forget you, Miss. You've saved my life and my sister's life as well. I could work a lifetime for you and not be able to pay you back for all that you've done." Santana struggled to keep her expression in check. Brittany began descending down the stairs. Santana desperately searched for anyway, any possible idea to get Brittany to stay there. As she reached the halfway point, Santana shouted,

"Wait!" Brittany stopped and turned around. "Wait. Just a moment." Santana ducked into her room. Brittany stood on the stairs, her hands gripping the bag tightly. With each passing second, it got harder and harder for her not to listen to Santana and hide away. Outside, the horses stomped and whinnied impatiently.

"Brittany!" A voice called her from below. Brittany turned just in time to see Puck sprinting up the stairs towards her.

"Noah!" She exclaimed.

"Tell me it's not true." He panted, having run as fast as he could when he heard. Had the stable master not awoken him to tell him the news, he would've missed Brittany leaving. "Tell me you're not going." Brittany hung her head.

"It's true." She said.

"Why?" Puck asked.

"It's a long and complicated story." Brittany replied simply. "I was stupid, that's all." Puck eyed her sadly. "Don't be sad...I get to see my family now. I don't have to make that hard decision." Brittany tried to point out the happy side by reminding Puck of their conversation earlier. Puck understood how difficult the whole thing was.

"Where are you going?" Puck asked. Brittany folded her hands in front of her.

"I'm going far from here. Nathan, my brother, tells me we live in a small down just on the border to the west. It's a nice port town with good weather, apparently." Puck looked down sadly. He knew where that was. It made the possibility of visiting her near impossible. This truly was the last time he would see her.

"Who will chase the horses for me now?" Puck joked, trying to lighten the mood. Brittany winked at him.

"You'll no doubt find some other young maiden do to that for you." She laughed. Puck's expression softened and he reached out and touched her cheek with his rough, dark hands. The action surprised Brittany and she jumped a little.

"You were the one that got away." Puck whispered. He then leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Brittany's eyes flew open wide and she backed away. Puck smiled sheepishly and then leapt down the stairs and sprinted out of the estate.

From the top of the stairwell, unbeknownst to either of them, Santana watched. In her hand she held two silver bracelets, almost identical but not quite. They'd been gifts from an ambassador when he visited the Duke. Santana had forgotten all about it until she searched for anything that would keep the link between her and Brittany. She had walked out just in time to see Puck lean in and kiss Brittany. For some reason, anger welled up inside her.

Without knowing it, she clenched her teeth and fists tightly. When she realized what she was doing, the bracelets had left deep, angry red marks in the palm of her hand. She lightened her grip and composed herself.

_It's because I know that he'll only hurt her like he's hurt so many other women he's set eyes on. _Santana reasoned inside.

"Brittany." She called lightly. Brittany turned around, her face flushed. Santana felt that familiar stabbing sensation in her chest that made her want to run Puck over with a horse. She tried to think of reasons to punish him. But she wasn't about to let Puck ruin what might've been the last time she saw Brittany.

"Here." Santana held out one of the bracelets. Brittany only stared at it for a moment, then back up to Santana. Her eyes asked for an explanation. "It's...it's in case I don't see you for your next birthday." Santana grabbed Brittany's hand and looped the chain on her wrist.

"But..."

"You've been my personal servant for six years. I won't let you go empty handed for serving me. You can sell it if you want, I don't care." Santana secretly did but she said it so that it would seem like she didn't really care about her servant. But Brittany meant more to her than all the jewelry in her possession. Brittany brought her wrist close to her chest and smiled.

"I would never, Miss." She said. Her smile dropped when she looked at Santana again. There was a dark blue mark on Santana's cheek where the Count struck her. It marred Santana's otherwise beautiful face and it served as a reminder to Brittany just how much danger she put Santana in. _I deserve this._ She thought. _How could I have hurt my Mistress?_ She turned around and walked down the stairs. Santana knew it wasn't her place to watch her servant go. She knew she couldn't handle it.

"Take care." Santana called out after her. The words felt awkward leaving her mouth. Brittany turned around one last time and bowed. Then she left through the front door. Santana bit her lip hard. The bracelet felt unnaturally heavy in her hand and she looped it around her wrist. The cold metal pressed against her skin. As she walked up the stairs, the urge to run out the door, to chase after Brittany was overwhelming.

_I must behave like a noblewoman should._ She thought. When she got to her room, she opened the door and went inside. There she undressed for the night, slipped into her nightgown and curled up on her bed under the covers. For a moment, she tried to listen in the quiet for the sound of Brittany in the other room. Not even her imagination would let her pretend that Brittany was still with her. It was only exhaustion that put her to sleep that night.

* * *

Brittany held her brother and sister's hand for the entire ride but none of them said anything for most of it. Her sister fell asleep on her lap and her brother tried not to focus on the pain he was still in. Brittany's thoughts were of Santana.

_Who was going to tie her ribbons just the way she liked it? Who would accompany her on her rides out along the grounds? None of the other servants knew how to, would she have to ride alone? Who was going to be there at night, when Santana had nightmares? _These were the questions that plagued Brittany's mind. No one knew Santana as well as she did. Brittany knew all of Santana's little quirks, what made her angry, what made her happy. She worried for both the new servant and Santana. The new servant was bound to make mistakes and she was willing to bet anything that Santana was going to yell when she did.

They rode until morning, just as the sky started lightening. The horses' soft "clomps" on the dirt soon turned into the familiar sound of hoof pounding on cobblestone. Brittany pushed back the curtains on the windows and looked outside. They'd ridden quite a distance, much farther than Brittany had even been. It was a wonder that the Count found them. There were dozens of houses on one row and they all looked the same.

Brittany felt her stomach sink when she realized that she was going to meet her parents again. She wondered how to react to her father or how her father was going to react to her. And the Count's words never left her mind.

"_He did it with you, didn't he?"_ Brittany shivered in place. She didn't believe it, the Count was lying to protect himself. Her father would never do what he did to Brittany again. She saw the look on his face the day he handed her over to the Count, it was a look of a broken man. He would never give up his only other daughter...

Yet the doubt ate away at her mind. She had no idea how to approach the subject. She could forgive her father for selling her but she could not forgive her father if he had done the same with Mary. Yet what power did she have to say what he did was right and what he did was wrong?

The carriage came to a halt and Brittany's heart stopped with it. She looked outside the window at a beat up old house wedged between an apothecary and another identical building. Brittany noticed the "cobbler" sign hanging in front. Nathan opened the door and got out slowly, wincing with every step he took.

"You're not well enough to walk!" Brittany said. Nathan stubbornly turned his head away and hobbled to the front door. He pounded against it. A few seconds passed and no one answered. Nathan pounded again. For a moment, Brittany's stomach dropped. She wondered if they had run away again. Then the door opened and Brittany's breath caught in her throat. It was Colin.

"Nathan!" Colin yelled and hugged him. Nathan cried out in pain and Colin pulled away. "Mom! Mom, Nathan is hurt! Dad!" Soon Brittany could hear footsteps filling the house as the family scrambled to go downstairs. Brittany's eyes watered when she saw her brothers lining up on the inside. Garrick, Daniel, John, they were all there too.

"Nathan..." A feminine voice said from the top of the stairs. Brittany's eyes watered when she saw her mother descend. "Oh my baby!" Her mother delicately pulled Nathan close. "Who did this to you? Who did this?"

"The Count, mom." Nathan responded.

"Nathan?" A deeper, older voice called out. Brittany took a step forward towards the family. They hadn't noticed her yet. When her father came downstairs, she stopped advancing. Her father looked like a skeleton. His face was sucked in, his limbs were pale and gaunt. All of his hair had turned white and grey with stress.

"Father." Nathan acknowledged. He buried his face into his father's chest.

"I thought we had lost you." Her father said. Brittany remembered the last time she'd seen him. He was skinny, but still strong. Now he looked twenty years older than he was. "My boy..."

"We got Mary." Nathan said. Her father's head shot up and saw Mary reaching out for them.

"Papa!" Mary called out. Brittany set her down and the little girl ran over to her father. Her father openly wept and her mother broke down in loud sobs.

"Mary!" Her mother pushed her brother's aside and hugged the little girl tightly.

"We?" Her father stood up again and made eye contact with Brittany. Brittany bowed slightly out of habit.

"Hello." She said. She wanted to say "father" but the word got stuck in her throat. She looked towards Nathan for help.

"Papa..." Nathan whispered. "That's Brittany." The entire house went silent. Brittany felt awkward standing there while everyone stared at her.

"Hi, Papa." She said finally. Her mother let out a small cry and fainted. Her father never broke eye contact with her.

"Get her inside, boys." He ordered. He walked towards Brittany with disbelief in his eyes. He studied her face closely and Brittany could see that he recognized her, but almost didn't want to. He was looking for anything that would've told him she was not her daughter, not the daughter he had sold six years ago.

"Brittany?" He breathed. Brittany nodded and broke into a smile. She thought she would've felt some resentment towards him for abandoning her but she just felt relief and happiness to see everyone's faces again. Tears spilled from her eyes as a small laugh escaped her mouth.

"Brittany!" Suddenly the boys jumped at her, enveloping her in a group hug. Brittany wrapped her arms around as many as she could.

"I've missed you all." She said. She kissed each one of them on her forehead and looked back at her father. Her father, too, was crying and smiling at the same time. Brittany rested her chin on Daniel's. She was home.

* * *

Santana woke up much later than usual. She had grown accustomed to Brittany coming in and waking her in the morning. She opened her eyes, no easy task. Her eyes were swollen because she'd fallen asleep crying. She wondered if the previous night had been a bad dream so she quickly exited her room, still in her nightgown and crept over to Brittany's room. She quietly opened the door and peeked inside.

Brittany's bed was empty and made. Santana let out a muffled cry and went back into her room. She stared at herself in the mirror, trying her best to compose herself. She saw the bruise on her cheek and she touched it gently. It was still tender and she hissed in pain. Even though the action hurt, she felt numb emotionally. She'd lost more than just a servant.

_A friend?_ A small voice whispered. She discarded that thought quickly, but mostly out of fear, as if someone could hear her thoughts. Brittany was a servant, it wasn't proper for someone of her class to be friends with someone like that. And yet...Brittany was the one who always made her feel better. She had precious few friends, Quinn hardly counted since they were constantly vying for status and recognition in court. But Brittany...she was...

"Santana? What on earth are you doing? It's almost noon!" Her mother called from the hallway. The door opened and her mother walked in. "Oh Heavens, you're still in your nightgown."

"Brittany used to wake me up." She snapped. "Of course I overslept."

"Hmph, well, perhaps I didn't get rid of her soon enough." Her mother said. "You need to start behaving like a grown woman. You can't rely on one person like that. Once you marry the prince and move into the palace, you'll have many hands waiting on you hand and foot. To get attached to one...it's..." Her mother shook her head to clear the thought from her mind. Her mere presence irritated Santana.

"Get out, mother." She snapped.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, Santana Lopez. You'll learn to thank me later. Now come, you're late for your lessons." Her mother replied angrily.

"I'm not going." Santana announced.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course you're going."

"No." Santana replied. "I don't see you going to lessons, is it because you're a 'grown woman'? If you say I'm a grown woman, then I don't need to." Her mother inhaled sharply. She did that every time Santana tested her nerves. A woman of her ranking and age knew how to restrain herself but Santana was sometimes more than trying.

"Very well, but your father has confined you to your room otherwise. You can stay in here and stare at yourself all day if you please." Her mother left the room and slammed the door behind her. Santana ran her fingers through her hair and stared out the window. It was an otherwise beautiful day. She thought of what she and Brittany would've done. They might've had a picnic outside, or gone for a walk. They might've rode horses.

Santana's eyes narrowed when she thought about horses. Inevitably, any thought of them would lead to Puck. She remembered what Puck had done last night. He had kissed Brittany. Santana long suspected that Puck's affections for Brittany ran deeper than just friendship. But seeing him act on it stirred emotions in her that weren't pleasant. She slammed her open hand down on her dresser and let out a small yelp when it stung. She brought her hand up to her chest. She felt lonely and confused. She'd never imagined that Brittany leaving would have such an effect. She never even imagined that Brittany would leave. It was strange. She'd never thought of Brittany as anything other than a servant. But traveling with her, She flopped down on her bed and slept.

A little while later, she awoke with a start when her mother knocked on the door. Santana sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her mother threw her a disgusted look.

"Quinn's here to see you." She announced. "Please, make yourself decent. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from her." Santana glared at her mother as she closed the door. She heaved a frustrated sigh. No doubt Quinn had heard about the debacle and was here to patronize her for "running away with her servant." She stood up and retrieved a dress from her dresser. She slipped it on, sadly noting that Brittany was not there to help her tie the ribbons. She did it awkwardly in the mirror and it came out lopsided. She fixed her hair and just as she was tying the ribbons in her hair, someone knocked softly on her door.

"Come in." She said, setting her arms down. Quinn walked in, a smug smile plastered on her face. Santana had to try very hard not to roll her eyes.

"Well, well. There's the little runaway." Quinn said.

"Good afternoon to you too, Miss Fabray." Santana said caustically.

"I hear you went gallivanting off into the country side with your servant?" Quinn said with a smirk. Santana stood up.

"Have you come just to mock me? Because I can assure you that if that's your intent, I must ask you to leave." Quinn sat down on Santana's bed and shook her head.

"I came to see how you were. You and Brittany were inseparable." Quinn said. Santana searched her face for any sign of ingenuity. She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"It's been...different." Santana said cautiously. She wasn't sure what kind of game Quinn was trying to play. But Quinn didn't seem like she was going to mock her further. "It's actually been difficult. Have you ever had a servant that you were particularly fond of?" Quinn looked down and smiled.

"No. But I can sympathize. She's been with you for six years. She's a very likable girl." Quinn replied. "So where has she gone?"

"Back to her family, I presume." Santana said. "She had her sister and brother, there's no where else for her to go." Her head drifted down and Quinn gasped.

"Your cheek, Santana, what happened?"

"Count Baste struck me." Santana replied, her eyes narrowing at the memory. Quinn put her hand over her mouth in shock. "He would've done worse, had my father not shown up when he did."

"If it were my father, he would've killed the Count." Quinn said. Santana laughed.

"Well, my father threatened him. I doubt he'll give us any trouble. My father is one of the best swordsmen in the land and the Count is nothing but a fat pig, too absorbed in his own sin to do an ounce of work." Santana said bitterly. "But in a way, I lost."

"How so?" Quinn asked. Santana told Quinn the whole story. Quinn listened silently as Santana explained Brittany's story. Quinn had never heard the entirety of how Brittany came to be at the Lopez estate. When she heard about the hardships that Brittany suffered, her mouth turned downward.

"So when I say that I lost, what I mean is that I lost Brittany." Santana finished. Quinn nodded in understanding. Santana was partially surprised by how understanding Quinn was that day. She half expected Quinn to spend their entire time together berating her. And yet here she was, listening and offering sympathy. Santana only hoped it wasn't a ploy.

"Well, I'm sure she's glad to be back with her family. Do you have any idea where she is?" Quinn asked.

"It wouldn't make a difference. I'm confined to my estate and Brittany isn't welcome back." Santana said dejectedly. Quinn watched her with a caring eye. Santana usually had such fire in her that made talking with a constant battle of wits. Quinn enjoyed that. She didn't like this new Santana. They talked for a bit more in Santana's room until Quinn's mother called her from below.

"I must take my leave." Quinn said, getting up. Santana found herself actually sad that Quinn was leaving. It might've been the first time that they spoke without a trace of animosity and Santana appreciated the listening ear.

"Take care."

"You'd do well to heed your own words." Quinn said with that smirk that Santana knew so well. "Next time I won't be so kind." Santana smiled back.

Quinn walked downstairs. Her mother and father walked towards the entrance where their carriage was waiting. Her father bid goodbye to the Duke and her mother shared a steely cold farewell with Duchess Lopez as usual. They got into the carriage and just as Quinn was about to, she noticed the stable boy holding the horse's reins. She recognized him instantly as the troublemaker. She'd seen him with Brittany before. An idea struck her and she stepped down from the carriage.

"A moment." She said to her parents who shot her a confused look. She walked up to the stable boy. "Excuse me." He looked up, slightly startled by her presence.

"Yes, Miss?" He asked. Quinn smiled courteously at him.

"You were friends with Miss Lopez's personal servant, correct?" He turned a slight shade of pink. It was barely detectable against his dark skin but it was there.

"Yes, Miss." He replied, looking away.

"Is there any chance you know where she went?" Quinn suggested. He looked back at her quickly.

"Yes, Miss. Do you plan on bringing her back?" He asked all too excitedly. Quinn smiled at his enthusiasm. He was clearly enamored with her.

"Perhaps." She replied cryptically.

"She told me she was bound for a port side down in the west. She never said which one, Miss, but once the driver gets back, he'll know." Puck said. Quinn nodded appreciatively. She turned on her heel and got into the carriage.

"What was that all about?" Her father asked. Quinn shook her head dismissively.

"Nothing important, father." She replied.

"Hah! So young and keeping secrets already." He laughed. Quinn sat back in thought. _A port side town...there aren't too many of them. I'll be sure to pay the driver a visit the next time I come here._

"Father, may I come back tomorrow? I haven't been a good friend to Santana lately. It's important to forge relationships at a young age, am I correct?" She said.

"Of course! The Duke and I always have time for some good sport." He replied with a wink. "Coming here is a perfect excuse to deplete his stock, not mine." Quinn smiled. It was time to get a new servant.


	10. Part 1: The Queen and the Pawn

It felt strange to be "home" after six years of being gone. It wasn't even the home that she remembered. The house was bigger, though not by much. The first thing she noticed was that there were three beds. Brittany learned that the two spare beds were shared between the brothers. The downstairs was still a workspace for her father but she noticed that the tools were nicer.

"You seem to have done well, father." She said, trying to break the silence. He looked up at her with a start. It had been six years since he'd heard her voice. And for those six years he harbored guilt for doing what he'd done. To see his daughter, all grown up and still calling him father was more than his heart could bear. He nodded and mumbled a "yes" and looked back down at the table.

Without warning, her father got down on the ground and put his head to the floor. Brittany put her hand over her mouth, surprised.

"Brittany...what I did six years ago...it was inexcusable."

"Please don't, father."

"I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"Father."

"The things...I can't imagine what life has been like for you." He said. Brittany stood up and lifted him off the ground. She bent down and looked him in the eye and smiled. He searched her eyes, confused as to why she was being so gentle.

"Father." She said. "Please, sit down." She guided him back onto the chair where he folded his arms and questioned her with his eyes. "When you left me..." She closed her eyes. "I...I was saved." Her father's eyes widened as did her mother's. Her brothers leaned in closer to hear her story. She looked around.

"S-saved? What do you mean?" Her mother stammered.

"A girl bought me from Count Baste." She said. "She took me from Count Baste even though he didn't want to sell me. She took me in and made me her personal servant. She saved me from him. I grew up well fed, well treated, and far away from the Count." Her father's jaw dropped open. Brittany looked down and bit her lip. She missed her Mistress. Even if she was back with her family, there was still a sense of loss in her chest.

"We must thank this girl and her family. What is her name?" Brittany looked up again.

"Santana Lopez."

* * *

Quinn knew that the Lopez family had closer connections to the king than her family ever would. Quinn knew she had a slight edge when it came to looks but she could've been the prettiest girl in the country and Santana would still beat her simply due to her family's influence. It had been set from her birth, she was going to marry the Prince. Her mother told her every night before she went to bed that soon, she'd be in charge of everything.

And then Santana Lopez and her family had to come into court, saved the King's son and gained unimaginable favor with him. Suddenly it wasn't "you'd be in charge of everything" at night, it was "you must beat the Lopez girl." Soon she was working hard every day to earn even a little bit of the Prince's attention while Santana's parents had to force her to spend time with the Prince. It was as if she didn't care about the crown.

That was going to change, however. She knew something that Santana did care about. No matter where she went or what company she kept, she was always kept Brittany close. Brittany was the only person Santana ever showed more than a passing interest in. She and Santana been "friends" since they met and Quinn had never seen Santana smile at her the way she did at Brittany. It was clear, even if it was unheard of and inappropriate, Brittany was more than just a servant to Santana. Quinn was going to use that to her advantage and there was no greater opportunity for that than now.

"Hello, Duchess Lopez." Quinn curtsied.

"It's so nice of you to drop by. But remember, Santana is being punished for her actions. If you visit too often, she'll forget that." The Duchess always made Quinn feel uncomfortable. It was clear that any kindness she showed was feigned. She was false from head to toe and Quinn saw through the facade. It didn't make her any less uneasy. She was certain that, given the chance, the Duchess would gladly lead her off a cliff.

"I'm sure it's more punishment for her to entertain me." Quinn laughed politely. The Duchess smiled her sickly sweet smile.

"Don't be silly. Your presence is always welcome." _I'm sure it is._ Quinn thought to herself but she nodded and the Duchess gestured up the stairs. "If you have the time and energy, please teach Santana how to behave more like you; a proper lady."

"I'll do my best." The Duchess excused herself and disappeared into a room. Instead of going up the stairs like the Duchess expected her, Quinn stole out to the back and looked immediately for the stable. She poked her head in and looked around. It seemed empty. She took a cautious step in.

"Hello?" She asked. "Is there anyone here?" Suddenly, a man jumped out of the hay roaring at the top of his lungs and grabbed Quinn around her waist. Quinn screamed and when the man realized who it was he had terrified and assaulted, he jumped away.

"I apologize, Miss! I had no idea!" Quinn opened her eyes and looked at her assailant. It was none other than the troublesome stable boy, Puck. She crossed her hands in front of her and composed herself. He looked scared of her, rightly so since she was from one of the most influential families in the country. And to have touched her and frightened her like he did...

"Please forgive me." He said. "I've had enough trouble with the stable master. He told me that if I were to..."

"That's enough." Quinn commanded, straightening her hair and pulling bits of straw from her dress. "I won't ask what you were trying to do or who you thought I was. I have more pressing concerns." Puck had been staring at his feet for most of the time. He worried that if he so much as looked at Quinn Fabray wrong, she'd have him drawn and quartered. But now that he seemed to be in no immediate danger, he glanced up at her.

He'd heard stories of her beauty; it was near legendary. Miss Lopez was not hard to look at, but when he glanced up, her face took his breath away. He'd only seen her close once, the day before when she asked him about the carriage driver. But he'd been too sad and distracted to really pay any attention to what she looked like. It had registered in his brain that she was beautiful, but it was only now that it really sunk in. Her face was pale and smooth, the complete opposite of his own skin which was dark and dry. Her eyes were light brown with emerald flakes in them. Her form was lithe and she carried an air of grace and serenity that Santana lacked. Santana was a fiery handful to deal with. Miss Fabray on the other hand was cool and collected despite the scare he'd given her. His mouth fell open a little as he gaped at her. Quinn shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"I was looking for the carriage driver. Do you happen to know where he is?" Quinn asked, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. Puck shook his head and snapped out of his stupor. He looked back at the ground.

"No, Miss. He lives in a small cottage a little ways into the woods." Puck replied. "He will probably be there." Quinn nodded courteously and left. Puck strained to watch her walk away, creeping up to the side of the door where he peered out at her quickly retreating figure. He'd never met anyone as beautiful as her.

Quinn walked a little ways into the woods before she spotted the lone cabin. It was made of wood but it looked barely large enough to fit two people. When it creaked loudly, Quinn feared that the roof would collapse on her head. Nevertheless, she pressed on and knocked softly on the door. It took a moment before the door opened.

"May I he-" The man's eyes widened. "Miss Fabray! I didn't...please, come in. Oh, what am I saying, it's a mess in here." He stopped and cleared his throat. "Excuse my manners. How may I help you?" Quinn planted her feet firmly. She saw the mess of clothes and unwashed dishes behind him and decided it would be better for her health to say outside. She smiled at him.

"I understand you took a Miss Brittany Pierce back to her family, is that correct?" Quinn asked. The man looked at her.

"Yes, Miss." Quinn chose not to acknowledge his clearly perplexed look with an answer. Instead, she went on with her question.

"Do you mind telling me where they are" She asked.

"No, Miss. But may I ask why?" He said.

"It's a matter of...personal business." Quinn replied cryptically. The man scratched his head. "If you'd be so kind..." Quinn discretely pulled a small coin purse from her dress and placed it in his hands. His eyes went wide again.

"I can draw you a map, Miss." He said and hurriedly went inside to fetch parchment and ink. "Please, come in."

"No thank you." Quinn shuddered in disgust when she saw a rat escape out the window. "I'll be fine out here."

* * *

The low roof of their house bore down on Brittany's head as she stared up. Outside, she could hear dogs barking and she curled up, the memory of the mad dog still fresh in her mind. More than that, she remembered her Mistress. It was odd, she should've been happy to be with her family again. She hadn't seen them for so long and yet, the first thing that came to her mind was how much she missed the Lopez estate.

It wasn't that her room was nicer, Brittany wasn't one for material things. It was the bond that she'd forged with Santana. She'd grown used to keeping an ear out for Santana's tell tale ring. She remembered the crisp peal of the bell, signaling for her to get up and tend to her Mistress. It hadn't happened that often, mostly it was because Santana couldn't sleep and she needed Brittany to stay with her until she did.

In her family's house, she couldn't smell the familiar smells. She couldn't hear the sound of crickets chirping in the back or the distant whinny of a restless horse. Here the air was musky and uncomfortable. The sound of her father snoring was paradoxically calming and grating. It was calming to know that she was home, that her family was safe. It was grating because she had a home already, back at the estate.

She rolled over again on the lumpy, poorly made bed and stared at the stone wall. She felt guilty for wanting to go back. But knowing that her family was fine, that they'd survived and seemed to be doing well was enough for her. She wanted to take her place by her Mistress's side. But that would never happen. The Duke would never let on his estate again. She sighed with a heavy heart and clutched the frayed ribbon to her chest tightly. She tried to imagine the sound of her Mistress's voice as she tried to sleep.

The morning was just as jarring. Brittany woke with a start when the sounds of a bustling city filled the air. She could hear vendors in the street yelling their prices, women humming as they walked around and children screaming and laughing. She sat up and looked around. It was just like the first day she woke up at the estate six years ago. She didn't recognize anything around her for a moment until she realized that the nanny was not sleeping in the same room, that Santana was not ringing for her because she'd accidentally slept too late.

"Brittany!" Colin jumped onto the bed and hugged her. Brittany hugged him back.

"Colin!"

"I missed you, Brittany." He said. "Mama always said you'd come back some day." Brittany smiled down at him.

"Of course. I missed you too much." She said. He grinned. He'd lost a tooth in the front, a mark of growing up. Brittany knew she'd missed much of their growing up but she was with them and she could make up for those years.

"Breakfast is ready, Brittany." Her mother said as she made her way up the stairs. "Go on, Colin." Colin scrambled out of bed. Her mother sat down next to her and looked at her.

"I'm home." Brittany said.

"But you don't seem happy." Her mother pushed back her hair.

"I am, mother! I'm with you and papa, and everyone." Her mother smiled. Her eyes were faded with age but they held such knowing that Brittany sighed and relented. "It's not that it was more comfortable, mother."

"She must've treated you very well." Her mother noted.

"She did, mama. She saved me and Mary. She never once got mad at me, no matter how many times I did something wrong. She made sure I was always comfortable."

"For a noble, she's very kind." Her mother said. Brittany nodded and ran her thumb over the worn ribbon.

"More than you can know, mother." She whispered.

"She's done more than I can repay in a dozen lifetimes." Her mother said, straightening Brittany's tangles. "She must be a saint."

"It's strange, mother." Brittany said. "I've seen her with others. She's not like she is with me." Her mother smiled knowingly.

"You are very special, did you know that, Brittany? You were blessed from the moment you were born. God must've switched you with an angel when He delivered you to us but it is a mistake I will go to heaven and fight Him for if He wishes to correct it by taking you back." Her mother said. She stood up. "Come, breakfast is ready. We have a house full of growing boys, it'll not last long." Brittany got out of bed and followed her mother downstairs.

Her mother had found work washing clothes for a nearby city patrolman. The extra coin helped and since her father had a steady, if slightly sparse, supply of customers, that meant that the boys no longer had to beg. Her mother and father earned enough to feed them. Nathan, as Brittany found out, had taken an apprentice ship with a local weapon smith. Working with swords and around people who knew how to wield them expertly planted the idea in him that he too was strong and invincible. That was why he chased after Mary as he did.

The weapon smith scolded him for being so foolish but Brittany could tell just by the way he yelled that the old scraggly man cared very much for Nathan and hated to see him as hurt as he was.

"He's a talented boy." The weapon smith said to Brittany privately. "Stupid beyond belief, but very talented." Brittany smiled at her brother as he prodded at a piece of metal sitting in the furnace. The old man turned to watch him and immediately hobbled towards him.

"Don't poke at it like it's your evening gruel! You'll ruin the metal that way!" He shouted. Brittany laughed a little. Everything was going well.

* * *

Quinn Fabray knew she didn't have to dress up too much for people to recognize her as a noblewoman. She simply put on a light blue dress and fixed her hair before walking downstairs. It was very early in the morning but she had a long trip ahead of her. Her father was just exiting the bedroom when he spotted her.

"Quinn!" He said, surprised. "Where are you going this early?" Quinn turned around and flashed a mysterious smile.

"A lady never tells all her secrets." She said, putting a finger to her lips. Her father laughed loudly.

"Secrets yesterday, secrets today, at such a young age...You get that from your mother." He said. He walked downstairs dressed in his night robe and kissed her on the forehead. Quinn smiled at him warmly. "Be back before dinner, understood?" Quinn nodded and descended the steps. She walked outside where a carriage was waiting.

"You know where we're going." Quinn said. The carriage driver nodded and they were off as soon as the door closed.

The ride was not a pleasant one. Quinn was very sick for the trip. She had been too excited to execute her plan that she hardly slept, hardly ate and that resulted in a very nauseating experience. It was also a very long journey. But it was a necessary task. For hours they traveled with no rest. The carriage driver informed her that in order to go there and back by evening, they needed to travel without stop. So Quinn swallowed the bile and sickness rising in her stomach and tried to focus on the scenery. Eventually, the long country road morphed into a dirty, smoggy, smelly town.

"We're almost there, m'lady." The carriage said.

"So I can tell." Quinn remarked sarcastically. The bumps on the road didn't make her sickness any better and she was more than a little relieved when the horses stopped. She waited anxiously for the door to be opened. A lady was always patient. When the door finally opened, it took every ounce of self-control not to fling herself onto solid ground. When she finally stepped onto the cobble, she looked around. She'd never been to such a poor place before. There was water everywhere, and it smelled just as awful as it looked.

"Where is it?" She asked. The sun was bearing down on her mercilessly and she wanted nothing more than to go home and have her servants fan her.

"It's here, Miss." The carriage driver pointed to a house with a cobbler sign on it. Quinn took a deep breath knocked delicately on the door. Inside, she heard what sounded like a stampede. It started soft and soon Quinn was frightened to be near the door. It opened and it looked like the whole town was crammed into that small apartment. Almost half a dozen boys gawked at her and she cleared her throat carefully.

"Is a Brittany Pierce here?" She asked, flashing a weak smile.

"Boys! Get back to the table!" Quinn recognized the voice and sure enough, Brittany appeared from behind the door. When their eyes locked, Brittany's mouth fell open and she froze completely. Quinn flashed her best smile.

"Brittany." She said. The boys did not do as she said. They looked up at their big sister.

"B-boys, get back inside." Brittany said again.

"What on earth is going on?" An older woman appeared and the resemblance was enough. This was Brittany's mother, Quinn concluded. When she spotted Quinn, she raised a hand to her mouth in shock. "Oh my goodness."

"You must be the Mrs. Pierce." Quinn said politely even though she was talking to mere peasants.

"Miss Fabray, to what do we owe this honor?" Brittany stepped in front of her family. Quinn directed her attention to Brittany. By now her whole family was watching from the door.

"I heard what happened at Count Bastes's estate. If you ask me, it was well deserved." She said. "It's unfortunate that you had to lose your position. Believe me, Santana had never been happier."

"Thank you, Miss." Brittany replied skeptically. She wasn't sure what Quinn was getting at. She knew Quinn was a master at scheming, and her visiting was not likely a personal visit.

"It looks like you have quite a big family." Quinn noted. "And the boys are only growing older. Soon they'll be eating you out of house and home."

"We'll manage." Brittany replied but she wasn't entirely sure. They were just scraping by with what little her mother and father made. "And when the boys get older, they'll find work."

"Well, in the mean time, I was hoping you could come work for me." Quinn said. Brittany blinked in surprise.

"She just came back!" Her father walked outside. "Please, Miss Fabray, excuse my intrusion. Brittany has been missing from our family for years. Please, don't take her away so quickly."

"I won't be taking her away." Quinn reassured. "The decision is hers to make. I will pay her, unlike the Lopez family and she may come see you every so often. I think it a fair trade and it will certainly help with the family's finances, will it not?"

"I sold my daughter once...I won't have her leave for money again." Her father swore.

"Miss Fabray." Brittany said. "It is as my father said. I haven't seen my family for years. I am not anxious to leave them so quickly." Quinn nodded and looked at the family staring her down, some angry, some anxious, some in amazement. She would not convince Brittany with them watching.

"Brittany, a word with you, please." She glanced at everyone else. "Alone." Brittany motioned for her family to return inside the house. She and Quinn walked to the carriage and got inside. Quinn smoothed her dress and exhaled.

"Miss Fabray..."

"Santana has not been the same without you." Quinn said bluntly. Brittany's voice hiccuped and Quinn took that opportunity to continue. "She's been holed up in her room all day. She hasn't gone to any of her lessons, she barely talks, even to me."

"Is she sick?" Brittany asked.

"Perhaps." Quinn looked down at her smooth hands. "But more than likely, she is simply not the same without you." Brittany's eyes fluttered upwards to hers and Quinn could see a slight fear and confusion in her eyes. It was as if Brittany felt she had been found out but didn't quite know what it was that had been revealed. She needed Quinn to tell her exactly what it was.

"Perhaps it is being an outsider that has given me insight into your relationship with Santana." Quinn suggested. "You two were close."

"I was her personal servant for six years." Brittany said.

"You were her friend." Quinn said in a hushed tone. Brittany's eyes widened and she looked down. Her hands started shaking. "I won't tell anyone. It would damage Santana's reputation and I would never do that." But an evil smirk touched at the corners of her outwardly pleasant smile. Brittany fidgeted in her seat.

"I've always thought of Santana as more than just my Mistress but I would never say it aloud. On our birthdays – we shared one, you know – we would go into the garden at night and exchange presents. And we'd stay with each other long past our bedtimes." Brittany spilled. Quinn took it all in stride even though the revelation caused her to pull back a little. She never suspected that their relationship went that deep. But then she realized just how wonderful it was for her plan.

"She's very fond of you." Quinn said. Brittany blinked back a few tears. Quinn searched her eyes. "Do you miss her?"

"Very much." Brittany admitted. "I love my family, do not mistake me, but to see that they are all doing fine...and...for all these years, well, Santana has been my family. She's all I have needed." Quinn settled back down.

"Would you like to see her again?" She asked. Brittany hesitated for a moment before nodded slowly. Quinn felt her metaphorical claws sinking into Brittany. She almost had her completely. "Then come, be my personal servant." Brittany paused longer this time. She looked back at the small stone house where her family was peering out from the windows. She loved every single one of them. She didn't want to leave them, not after they'd been apart for so long. But she knew where they lived and Quinn, well Quinn promised to let her visit them. The boys weren't growing any smaller and who knew when business would sour for her mother and father. They needed all the money they could get. But all of these reasons were excuses for why she really wanted to go with Quinn. She was inexplicably drawn to Santana and she couldn't stop thinking about her former Mistress. She wanted to see how Santana was doing, to cheer her up if necessary. Her family was fine, they had gotten along fine without her. But from what Quinn told her, it sounded like Santana was having a difficult time.

"I just want to see her again." Brittany whispered. In her head, Quinn heard the sound of the trap closing shut and she smiled, no longer caring to contain the wickedness behind her grin. Brittany hardly noticed.

* * *

_One Week Later..._

Santana lasted a solid two days before she felt like she was going to jump out of her balcony window. Her mother, she thought coldly, was very patient in waiting. When Santana finally walked outside, her mother was standing right at the door and gave Santana a start.

"It certainly took long enough." Her mother sneered at her. "French lesson begins before lunch. I informed her you will be working through it to make up for the time you've spent laying in bed these past few days."

Santana went back to her normal schedule. She received a new servant to tend to her but after a day, she dismissed the poor girl. It was the same girl who had tended to her the day Brittany took care of her wounded brother. For the servant's own safety, she told her father that she would get along just fine without a servant. Her father only grunted in response. His cold demeanor signified that he had not forgiven her for the incident. For the rest of the week, her father barely spoke to her and Santana missed his warm greetings in the morning and the fond goodnight he would bid her when it was time to go to sleep.

But most of all she missed Brittany.

She half expected, no, she wished that the feeling would fade as time went on but as the week drew to a close, the feeling of loneliness and loss only grew. The longer she went without Brittany, the stranger every passing day felt. Every morning she woke up and that sense of unfamiliarity sank in, like she didn't even belong in her room, like the clothes she wore were not the same ones she fell asleep in the previous night.

It was at dinner the seventh night of Brittany's departure that her father spoke to her again. They were just sitting down for dinner when her father cleared his throat.

"The Fabrays want us to attend a private dinner party." He said.

"I won't go." Santana said.

"Of course you won't. You're still being punished." Her mother snapped.

"No, they specifically requested that all of us go." Her father replied. Santana furrowed her eyebrows.

"Why?"

"Heaven knows. Probably Judith's doing. More than likely she wants to keep our family close. You know what they say about enemies and friends." The Duchess scoffed.

"Regardless, we are to attend tomorrow night." The Duke said firmly and the family went on eating their meal in silence.

The following evening, Santana rode in the carriage with her mother and father in silence. Ever since Brittany left, there had been an uneasy tension between the three of them. Her mother was always glaring at her and her father was always in a foul mood. Santana largely ignored her mother's fussing on the way.

When they got to the estate, the Fabrays greeted them warmly, or as warmly as Judith could muster. Quinn was there too and Santana couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was off with the young Fabray daughter.

"It's very nice to see you again, Santana." Judith lied. Santana curtsied and followed them inside.

"Dinner should be ready shortly. Shall we?" Russell asked, gesturing towards the study. The Duke nodded, there was always business to discuss that was not polite in front of the ladies. He excused himself and went on his way. Quinn also had something to discuss with Santana.

"I have something to show you." Quinn said. She went up the stairs quickly and far too excitedly for Santana's comfort. Quinn was almost never that excited. The only time Santana had seen her that way was once when the Prince acknowledged Quinn before he bowed to Santana. That had been the only time.

"What is it?" Santana asked. Quinn opened the door to her room and Santana went inside. Nothing seemed out of sorts so Santana turned back towards Quinn.

"You may come in now." Quinn said. The room was dimly lit and Santana strained her eyes to see in the small light. The side door to Quinn's room opened and a figure stepped inside. Santana narrowed her eyes.

"Who...?" And then her mouth went dry. Brittany stepped into the dim light, wearing the servant garments of the Fabray estate. Santana's mouth dropped as she gaped.

"Miss." Brittany bowed low, refusing to meet Santana's eyes. Santana looked from her to Quinn and Quinn smiled.

"I'll let you two get reacquainted." She said before stepping out and closing the door. Santana and Brittany stood in silence a small distance from each other. Brittany stood as still as possible while Santana struggled to find words.

"How...how can this be?" She stammered.

"Quinn found me. She visited my home and asked me to work here." Brittany explained. "My family needs the coin, so I followed her." Brittany left out any mention that the coin did not matter, that it was really Santana she wanted to see. "It was an opportunity I could not afford to pass by." Santana bit her lip to prevent from crying. Seeing Brittany ignited such a sense of loss. It looked wrong for Brittany to be wearing the colors that all the other Fabrays' servants wore.

"But you left hardly a few nights ago..." Santana still couldn't believe her eyes. Brittany, the girl she thought she'd lost was suddenly standing in front of her again. It was as if God himself answered her prayers somehow.

"Quinn promised that I could visit my family. It's work and she pays me well for my services." Brittany threw excuse after excuse in front of Santana to mask the fact that the reason she'd left so easily was the promise to be with Santana again. She could not explain what the feeling was, or why it was so strong but when Quinn said those words, "_Would you like to see her again?_" hope and happiness ignited inside Brittany and she said yes instinctively. But she could never tell Santana. Santana was above her. She could not tell her.

"Brittany..." Santana wanted to say everything as well. She wanted to say that nothing was the same without her, that everyone seemed sadder, that the whole estate missed her, that Santana missed her. But nothing came out of her mouth except her name. "Brittany..." The door opened and Quinn walked back in. She looked at Brittany and waved her hand.

"You may leave now." She said. Brittany looked desperately at her, begging with her silently to let her stay just a few more seconds with the Mistress she so cared about. But Quinn shot her an angry glare and Brittany left the room, not even casting a backwards glance at her. Quinn focused her attention on Santana and took delight in noticing how forlorn Santana looked as Brittany closed the door behind her.

"You like her." Quinn said. Santana's head snapped sideways. Her sad expression hardened into one of hate.

"What is the meaning of this, Quinn?" She demanded. Quinn laughed in a way that sent a chill up Santana's spine. Quinn cleared her throat.

"Why I want nothing more than to reunite you with your _precious_ servant." Quinn sneered. Santana ground her teeth together and clenched her fists. "Let us talk like adults for a moment, shall we?"

"Yes, let's." Santana growled.

"Tsk, tsk. No wonder your mother wants you to learn from me. That growl was simply animalistic. You are supposed to be a lady, not some wild beast. You are hardly fit for the throne." And then it sunk in; why Brittany was there, what Quinn was really after. Brittany being here, at the Fabray residence was no mistake and certainly no kind deed on Quinn's part. It was all a part of her plan. The realization must've shone on her face because Quinn's expression grew serious. "I will be frank. You are not fit to be a queen."

"That's none of your business and you have no right to drag Brittany into this!" Santana all but yelled.

"Calm your voice. You wouldn't want to scare her away would you?" Quinn said coldly. "It is no one's fault but your own that you are in this situation. To befriend a _servant_ of all people." Quinn shuddered in disgust. "What would the court think if they found out? What would they say? You would be laughed out of your rank." Santana took a step threateningly towards Quinn but the other girl did not move an inch.

"You wouldn't dare..."

"No. Of course not. I would never do that to a _friend._ After all, that's all I've been to you. I even brought you your precious servant girl after your father kicked her out." Quinn smiled again.

"If not for blackmail than what?" Santana asked.

"I never said I wouldn't use her for blackmail." Quinn replied. "I have a proposition for you." She waited for Santana to say something but Santana just seethed in place. "I won't say a word of this to anyone. You may come see Brittany as often as you like under the pretense of visiting me. In exchange, you will turn down any offer of marriage from Prince Finn and when you are with him, you must only talk of how wonderful I am."

"You are mad..." Santana hissed.

"No, _you_ are for befriending someone like her. This is your fault, Santana and you may choose. You can either sabotage any chance you have for the throne or you can sabotage your friendship with Brittany. The choice is yours." Quinn snapped. Santana knew she had been cornered. Quinn was far more devious than she'd ever thought possible. She knew her options. She'd grown up with the impression that the crown was hers, but finding Brittany seemed like fate. She didn't want to lose either of them.

"You have time to think about it, though I'm sure I know what decision you'll make. You've never wanted to be Queen, Santana. Be honest, you never liked the idea."

"And you want it so badly that you would do this to a 'friend'?" Santana laughed bitterly.

"I have spent my whole life working for something that has been handed to you. This was _my_ birthright, not yours!"

"Under who's authority?"

"Under mine!" Quinn yelled.

"Girls!" The door to the bedroom opened and Judith walked in. "This is not how young ladies should act. Your voices should be quiet and collected."

"My apologies, mother. We were simply having a debate about politics." Quinn said. Her eyes never left Santana's.

"Well, politics or not, it's time for dinner. Come." She turned around, completely oblivious to the holes that each girl bore into the other's head with their gazes. Santana gritted her teeth and set her jaw while Quinn brushed past her. Santana wanted nothing more than to push her down the stairs and hope it looked like an accident.

At dinner, Santana drank too much wine. She hardly ate anything so it wasn't long before the room was spinning. Her mother noticed and motioned for the servant to ignore any requests for more.

"This is unbecoming, young lady." Her mother hissed to her. Santana ignored her and instead, took a long drink while glaring at Quinn. Quinn for her part played calm and entertained the Duchess and Duke with stories.

"So what politics were you discussing?" Judith asked Quinn. Quinn smiled sweetly at Santana even though her eyes glittered maliciously.

"Nothing important, mother. Just ideas for the future, what decisions our husbands may make. Small things." She replied nonchalantly. Santana couldn't take it anymore. She stood up abruptly, causing everyone to stare at her.

"Santana!" Her mother exclaimed. "What are you doing, sit down immediately!"

"I'm not feeling well, mother." Santana said. "I think I'll take a quick walk." She left the dining room, not caring that it was quite rude of her to do so. Her mother, clearly flustered, pursed her lips together and turned back forward.

"Please excuse her, Marquess, she's been feeling ill as of late. She has been out for too long in the sun." The Duchess quickly lied. Marquess Fabray shook his head to signify that he thought nothing more of it.

Santana, still very drunk on wine, wound up in Quinn Fabray's room, standing outside the door that Brittany entered through. She knocked softly and put her ear up to the door, swaying slightly. When she heard no response, she opened the door a little and peered inside.

"Brittany?" She whispered. When no one replied, she opened the door all the way.

It was a small room, smaller than the one Brittany stayed in before. There was only enough room for a bed and a small wash bucket. Brittany lay on the bed on her stomach, her head resting on her forearms. She was sound asleep. Santana walked in and closed the door quietly behind her. She sat down on the ground next to the bed without any care that it might've been dirty. She rested her head against the frame and watched Brittany sleep.

Her hands were rough and showed signs of hard labor. There were small cuts on her palm, probably made when scrubbing the floor with a wooden brush or some other equally physical task. Brittany's hair fell messily over her face and Santana brushed it back. She felt frustrated but not at Brittany. To have her so close and to have Quinn manipulating their relationship, it made Santana boil with rage. But as angry as she was, she delicately pushed Brittany's hair back behind her ear.

"I would never work you this hard." Santana sighed. "You must be very tired." She brought her knees up to her chin and watched Brittany's back rise and fall with every breath. What Quinn said was true, she didn't particularly care about the throne. Her mother was the one who pushed her, and to some extent, her father as well. But she never found the idea of being married to Prince Finn particularly exciting. Yet it was what was expected of her from her family and the court. But for some reason, Brittany had such a hold on her. She could not shake the thought of the blonde servant from her mind.

Her eyes floated around the room until it settled on Brittany's right hand. Her hand was tucked under her chest, and Santana knew it couldn't have been comfortable there. She very gently pulled Brittany's arm from under her and gasped when she saw what Brittany was holding. She hardly recognized it, it was so faded and old. The ends were coming apart yet there was no mistaking the thread and the color. It was the ribbon that she'd given Brittany. Her gaze traveled upwards and settled on Brittany's wrist, where the silver bracelet rested. Santana's eyes watered. Brittany had never forgotten her and even though she worked for Quinn Fabray, her thoughts must still be of Santana.

Santana quickly brushed the tears from her eyes away. Wine always had that effect on her; bringing out emotions she would rather bury quickly. It was even more pronounced now.

"Brittany..." Santana breathed. Her eyes fell on Brittany's face. Brittany looked troubled even in sleep. She studied Brittany's face, the curve of her eyes, the high bones in her cheek. She looked at Brittany's lips. The wine made her head swim and her thoughts wandered back to the night Brittany left. The image of Puck reaching up and kissing Brittany burst forth into Santana's mind and she found herself slamming her fist on the ground. The sharp pain of it brought Santana back to reality and she quickly glanced over at Brittany to make sure that she hadn't woken the girl up. But Brittany slept on.

"He had no right..." Santana said quietly and then stopped. If Puck had no right...who did? Santana wondered. Her eyes fell once again on Brittany's lips. She had always imagined a servant to have cracked, rough and dry lips but Brittany's were a light shade of red and they looked soft, possibly softer than her own.

"No right." Santana repeated. _Why?_ She asked herself. _Because he has no right._ _But why? _She struggled internally with a reason. Puck had every right, didn't he? He clearly had affections for Brittany. So why, then, did Santana feel so strongly that he couldn't? Why did just thinking about the two of them stir such violent emotions in her?

_Because...because she is mine._ And then, whether because she was drunk or because she finally realized why Brittany mattered so much to her, Santana leaned over, just a few inches and pressed her lips to Brittany's.


	11. Part 1: Deal

Santana pulled away. Her head spun and she was certain it was not because of drinking. She stared at Brittany who slumbered on obliviously. Her face grew hot and she stood up quickly. The sudden elevation caused her to sway in place and she lost her balance, toppling backwards and crashing into the wall. Her hand lashed out, trying to find something to grab onto but instead, she toppled a small white vase which fell onto the ground and shattered.

Brittany woke with a start. She looked around for the source of the noise. When she saw Santana, she got up quickly.

"Miss!" She exclaimed. "Are you alright?" Had Brittany been completely awake, she would've had her senses about her. Instead, she reached out and touched Santana's arm as if they were equals, as if they were friends. Santana flinched at the touch. It sparked something deep inside her and her stomach lurched.

"I don't feel well. It must be the wine." Santana said as she made a move to the door. Brittany, still not thinking clearly, grabbed Santana's hand. Santana pushed her away. "Don't touch me!" Brittany stumbled back and fell onto the bed. Santana barely muttered an apology before taking off. On her way out, she nearly bumped into Quinn, who had just entered the room after hearing the vase break. Santana couldn't meet her eyes and she brushed past her and ran down the stairs. Brittany walked out as if she meant to follow Santana but stopped when she saw Quinn.

"What on earth happened?" Quinn demanded.

"I'm sorry, miss." Brittany bowed, thinking she was angry about the vase. "It was my fault. I was clumsy-"

"I meant with Santana." Quinn corrected. Brittany looked over her shoulder at the open door. She shifted impatiently. "Answer me."

"I don't know, miss, I swear. Please, she said she felt sick. I need to-"

"You are not her servant anymore!" Quinn snapped. "You'll do well to remember that." Quinn gritted her teeth in frustration. The look on Santana's face was not a happy one. If anything happened to sabotage Santana's feelings towards Brittany, then her plan was over. She needed to have Santana agree to their deal as soon as possible. The quicker Santana broke it off with the Prince, the faster she could swoop in and take her rightful place.

"Did you say anything to make her unhappy?" Quinn asked. Brittany shook her head.

"No, miss, I swear! I asked if she felt alright and she ran out." Sensing that Brittany really hadn't done anything, Quinn turned around and chased after Santana. Something must've happened in that short interval between Santana leaving the dining table and Quinn running into her. If anything happened to their friendship...

"Nothing happened, it's all a misunderstanding." Quinn muttered to herself as she stormed out of the room. But she couldn't get over the look on Santana's face. It seemed as though she'd been crying, as if Brittany had hurt her in some inexplicable way. But she knew Brittany wasn't lying. Brittany couldn't hurt Santana if she tried.

Downstairs, the Lopez and Fabrays were finishing up dinner when Santana took her place beside her mother. Her mother shot her a dirty look and whispered something Santana didn't bother to hear. She took a deep breath in and vowed to get through the rest of the night. She didn't dare go back up to the room and she prayed that Brittany would not make her way down. Quinn joined them shortly after, sitting down opposite to Santana. She eyed the young Miss Lopez with intensity, trying to discern what it was that Brittany had said or done, or what effect it had on her. But Santana put up her walls and Quinn could not see through her facade.

By the time the Lopez family was ready to leave, Quinn still hadn't received an answer from Santana regarding her proposed deal. She discreetly clenched her fist in anticipation as the Duke, Duchess and Santana walked towards the main doors, preparing to leave. Quinn walked beside Santana and glanced at her.

"Did you make a decision?" Quinn asked. She looked over. To her surprise, it looked as though Santana was ready to burst into tears. Her eyes shone and her entire jaw tightened in an effort not to cry and Quinn saw it. _What in God's name did Brittany do?_ She thought angrily.

"Well, Marquess, it's been a pleasure, as always." The Duke said, clapping a hand on the shoulder of his long time friend. The husbands had always been amicable. The wives much less so.

"Good evening, Duchess." Judith said through bared teeth.

"To you as well." The Duchess replied. Their farewell sent shivers up everyone's spine. Quinn began panicking. She had to get Santana to agree before the shock wore off. Once it did, she was certain that Santana would see the folly in choosing a servant over a prince. She looked up at Santana's mother.

"Does Santana have any time to meet me for lunch tomorrow?"

"But darling." Judith said. "You've barely parted and you're making plans so soon?"

"I didn't get to talk with Santana as much as I would've liked." Quinn said with a smile. "Isn't that right, Santana?" Santana nodded dumbly, which served to reassure Quinn that all was well.

"I suppose it's alright." Judith said.

"Santana is very behind in all of her studies. I'm afraid she simply doesn't have the time." The Duchess interjected.

"Come now, darling." The Duke guffawed, his mirth a product of the wine and good company. "Let the children have their fun! They grow up far too quickly. Let them have their lunch, I'm sure missing one lesson won't hurt." Not one to defy her husband in such company, the Duchess smiled a thin lipped smile.

"Very well." She said, nodding. Quinn pulled Santana in for a hug, pretending that it was because of their close relationship. However, it was merely an opportunity for her to threaten Santana one more time that night.

"You know my offer won't last." She whispered. "Make your decision by tomorrow, or else I will make it for you." Santana just felt numb and though she wanted to slap Quinn, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Her whole body felt drained and all she wanted to do was return home and fall asleep. Quinn pulled herself away and studied Santana's face. Her expression was conflicted and it was enough to satisfy Quinn. If Brittany really had said or done something, Santana would've outright rejected her offer. It looked as though she was seriously contemplating it. Quinn smirked.

"I hope to see you soon." She said sweetly. Santana nodded in silence and her mother, embarrassed by Santana's rude behavior, ushered her out of the house and into the carriage before she disgraced the family. Once inside, she launched into a tirade that Santana ignored the whole way. All she could think about was the way she pressed her lips against Brittany's, the strength in Brittany's hand when she gripped Santana's and most of all how it felt to be around her again. She stared out the window blankly, the brief few seconds before, during and after the kiss playing over and over in her mind while her mother rambled on.

From Quinn's open window, Brittany looked out, taking care not to be seen by the two families. She watched Santana get into the carriage and she felt in her gut that something was wrong with her former Mistress. The way she rushed off, how she yelled at Brittany, all of it felt wrong somehow. She bit her lip and brushed back her hair as it flew wildly in the evening window. The motion caught the eye of the carriage driver, whose eyes shone with recognition. Brittany ducked back inside even though she knew it was too late. Someone had seen her and knew who she was. She only prayed that nothing bad would come of it.

She quickly walked back into her room and lay down in her bed and pretended to sleep. No doubt Quinn blamed her for Santana's sudden change in demeanor. If she closed her eyes and pretended that she was slumbering, perhaps Quinn would let her alone. But Quinn stormed in.

"What on earth did you do to her? She was not the same when she left this room!" Quinn demanded. She pulled Brittany up and Brittany trembled. Her new Mistress was far more frightening than her old.

"Miss...you must believe me. I didn't..."

"I don't want to hear it. You'll get no supper tonight. I want you to think about whatever it is that you did to her. You almost cost my my whole plan-" Quinn stopped and Brittany looked at her, expecting her to go on. "Never mind. Continue sleeping. Don't think I won't punish you further if it happens again." She slammed the door on her way out and Brittany heard the chilling _click_ of the lock being turned. She lay back down, resting her head on her arm as she stared blankly at the wall. Hunger was the least of her worries.

* * *

Santana couldn't remember clearly how she wound up in bed. All she knew was that they had somehow gotten back to the estate, she'd slipped into her nightgown and lay in the dark. She couldn't even recall if she had undressed herself or if a servant helped her. Her thoughts were filled with images of Brittany._ It had been a mistake,_ she desperately and futilely tried to convince herself. The wine had made her kiss Brittany. But not a single cell in her body believed that.

Whatever Brittany meant to her, it was more than just a master-servant dynamic. Santana didn't know what she wanted, whether it was because Brittany was the only person she'd ever felt so connected to. In her world where any "friend" was just as likely to push you off a cliff as invite you to her birthday party, Brittany was Santana's only confidante. Brittany had seen her at her worst and she had always been there with a smile on her face and an encouraging word on her tongue. Brittany made Santana feel like none of the nobility mattered. Money had served its purpose; to bring Brittany into Santana's life. And once she was in, Santana couldn't remove her if she tried.

"God help me." Santana whispered as she drew her knees up to her chest. The darkness and humidity pressed down on her and she struggled to breathe through the quiet sobs that took over her body. The memory of Brittany lingered around her and she found herself groping the air as if trying to grasp her former servant's hand for strength. "God help me." She repeated over and over again.

She had to choose. Quinn would not wait long. Santana wanted a mother who would somehow, through either sorcery or maternal instinct hear her silent conflict and rush into her room. She wanted her mother to hold her while her heart wrenched in two directions. She wanted a mother to brush her hair back and tell her that what she was feeling was normal, even though it wasn't. It wasn't socially acceptable to feel anything towards someone of lower class and it certainly wasn't morally acceptable for her to feel anything towards another girl.  
"Brittany." Santana whispered and the darkness swept away the name so no one around her could hear the longing and anguish in her voice.

* * *

Puck was stabling the horses for the night. He was leading them into the stalls and the carriage driver hung his hat on the inside of the stable.

"I'll never understand these nobles." The carriage driver said. Puck ignored him. He always complained whenever he had to stay out late. "Oh, Puck!" Puck groaned aloud and turned around. He just wanted to get to bed. He'd been chased around all day by the stable master and he was sore all over from his beatings.

"I saw Brittany." If Puck had been tired before, he was wide awake after that statement. His eyes went wide and he stumbled. The carriage driver smiled widely at the reaction.

"W-Where?" Puck stammered.

"You've taken a liking to her, haven't you, boy?" The carriage driver teased. Puck blushed and looked down at his feet in embarrassment when he laughed. "It was hardly a glimpse, but I saw her staring out of the window as we were leaving."

"And you're sure you didn't make a mistake?" Puck asked.

"Of course not! It's hard to forget a pretty face like hers." He replied. "But I'm sure you already knew that." He winked and Puck closed the last of the stall doors. His thoughts wandered as he absentmindedly went about his business. He recalled when Quinn Fabray had stopped him and asked if he knew where Brittany was. Then Quinn appeared the next day asking for the carriage driver. Quinn had obviously found Brittany, but to what end?

That last thought soon disappeared when Puck realized he could see Brittany again. He broke into a grin as he flopped down on his small bed on the second floor of the stable. He stared out of the window at the stars.

"Brittany." He whispered. He had to go visit her, he had to see her again. He let out a long sigh of relief and content before falling fast asleep.

* * *

When Santana awoke the next morning, here eyes were puffy from having cried all night. She had only fallen asleep in the morning hours. It seemed like she'd just closed her eyes when she opened them again. She grasped at the threads of memories from the previous night. While everything else remained unclear, she could vividly picture the kiss and she let out a small sob when she realized that it wasn't a dream. The pain didn't leave her chest and she began crying again.

"Santana, what on earth are you doing still in bed?" Santana's mother opened the door and walked in. Santana did her best to try and wipe the tears away but her mother caught her as she sniffed and turned her head to the side. "Santana, what's going on here?"

"Nothing, mother." Santana said acidly. "Nothing that would concern you anyway." Had she looked at her mother, she would've seen a brief instant of concern flash across her face but when Santana looked back, she only saw the judgmental face of a Duchess who was dealing with an irritating daughter.

"Well, if it's nothing then you should be up already. You're going to be late for your lunch with the Fabray girl." Disapproval filled her voice to the brim but she wasn't going to argue when her daughter wanted to build relations with the second most powerful family. Santana knew this and Quinn knew this. It was precisely why, if she agreed to Quinn's deal, she would be able to see Brittany almost as often as she liked.

"Very well, mother." Santana slid out of bed and her mother left the room. Santana listened for footsteps but she didn't hear any. Her mother was probably waiting for her outside the room. Santana went to her dresser to retrieve clothes for the day. Getting dressed without Brittany was still a strange feeling for Santana. She could do it by herself but she'd grown so accustomed to Brittany being there and tying her ribbons or pulling the dress up just right that even Santana's own hands felt foreign. Santana sat down in front of the mirror and looked at herself. She was a mess without Brittany. She needed her and that need frightened her. She knew it was wrong in more ways than she could count. Brittany was a pauper, hardly worth a second of her time. Furthermore, the kiss was a sin in the eyes of the church. She knew what her religion preached. She knew the rules and she had broken every single one of them.

"No." She whispered to herself. "It was a mistake. I'm not..." But she couldn't finish the sentence. She wanted to say _I'm not in love with her_ but the words got caught up in her throat and she hiccuped instead. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I'm not in love with her. I can't be."

"Have you truly forgotten how to dress yourself?" Her mother called from outside. Santana steadied herself.

"Brittany is nothing but a peasant." She said firmly. "And I am in line to marry a prince. Only a fool would choose her over the Prince." She stood up. "I will go to Quinn and I will tell her that I do not accept that deal. I would be mad to do so." She walked out the door and her mother frowned.

"There you are. We are already late."

"My apologies, mother." Santana said courteously. The tone in her voice surprised the Duchess. It was her old daughter again. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Was this just another game Santana was playing?

"Then let us hurry." Her mother said, studying her daughter. She could feel the icy demeanor emanating from Santana. It was one she recognized for she radiated the same. A satisfied smile spread across her face and she nodded in approval. This was the Santana she raised. This was the Santana who was going to attend a lunch with the Fabray girl and reassert her position over her. This was the Santana she raised. Santana walked ahead of the Duchess while her mother smirked. It was time to get to work.

As the Duchess, Duke and Santana approached the front entrance, the stable master ran up to them, panting heavily. The Duchess eyed him warily.

"Duke, it's Puck."

"Oh for heaven's sake what has he done this time?" The Duke demanded furiously.

"He's gone and taken one of the horses again." The stable master said. "I haven't seem him or the beast anywhere."

"We're going to be late, dear." The Duchess pointed out. The Duke scratched his beard and shook his head.

"He's always been a troublemaker, that one. But his antics are more often than not harmless. He will return in time. You will see to it that he gets punished."

"Yes sir. I'll give him a beating so hard his mother will-" He stopped, realizing the company he was in. "Yes, sir, I will see to it."

"Very good. Carry on." The Duke waited until the two women were in the carriage before going in himself. The stable master cursed under his breath as they rode away. Where on earth was that idiot boy?

* * *

Brittany did her best to suppress a yawn but the Fabray family was far too boring for her tastes. Most of the time, Quinn kept her busy with the other servants. She stayed inconspicuous. Quinn feared that someone would recognize her and tell the Lopez family. In reality, though most of the court knew that Santana had a personal servant, none of them really knew what she looked like. But Quinn played it safe. It was always smart not to sabotage her winning hand.

On this particular day, however, Quinn told her to stay in her small room. Brittany wasn't used to idling for hours on end. Back at the Lopez estate, Santana was always shuffling from one place to another, and she would always be on her toes trying to keep her Mistress happy. Being with Santana gave her purpose. Being with Quinn meant a lot of sitting in her room doing nothing.

Just as she was about to nod off in boredom, Quinn barged into her room. She launched herself out of bed and stood at attention.

"Brittany, the Lopez family will be here any minute." Quinn said. Hearing that name made Brittany's heart skip a beat and she couldn't force a smile down. She looked down, slightly embarrassed. It must've been very obvious that she preferred the Lopez family to the Fabrays and she wondered if Quinn was going to reprimand her for showing it. But Quinn did not.

"Whatever you said or did to Santana to make her upset, it must not happen again, do you understand?" She asked.

"No, Miss." Brittany replied, confused. "I honestly don't know what I did or said. I simply woke up and she was already upset. I swear I don't know what happened."

"Well whatever it was, don't do it again." Quinn replied. Brittany bowed and Quinn left the room again. She sat down on the bed and pouted. She had no idea what on earth happened to make Santana act the way she did. From their initial meeting, it seemed like Santana was overjoyed to see Brittany. But that last encounter, Santana appeared troubled and sad, angry even. Brittany understood that it was out of line for her to grab Santana's hand like she did, but Santana had never yelled at her like that before. She'd never recoiled from her so violently. It was as if the touch were painful to her former Mistress. Brittany racked her brain trying to figure out what it was that happened before she awoke but she couldn't recall anything. All she remembered was waking up to the sound of the vase breaking and finding Santana backed against the wall.

"Mistress, what happened to you...?" She wondered aloud. Perhaps today she could find out. Santana was surely coming back here to meet with Quinn and if that was the case, then there was also a chance that Brittany could speak privately to her, find out what was on her mind.

"No!" Brittany hissed. "What on earth am I thinking? I have no right to ask that question." She hit herself in the head lightly. She needed to start seeing Santana as a noblewoman. She was no longer her servant. Whatever bond they had was severed, Brittany tried to reason. She needed to act appropriately.

A soft knock on the window startled Brittany and she jumped when she saw a hand rapping on the panel. She walked over and opened it.

"Brittany!" It was Puck.

"Puck!" Brittany exclaimed. The boy had somehow scaled the vines and stones on the wall up to where her room was. It was no easy feat. Any mishap and Puck could well fall and break his neck. Brittany grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room. He landed on the floor with a resounding thud.

"What on earth are you doing here? How did you find me?" Brittany demanded.

"The carriage driver told me you were here. I stole one of the Duke's horses and rode here early this morning. No doubt I'll get a lashing for that. The servants told me you were in this room and, well, the wall couldn't keep me away." He got to his feet and put his hands on Brittany's shoulders. He stared at her, taking in the fact that she really was in front of him.

"Puck..."

"I've missed you." He said, embracing her. She returned the gesture. Seeing Puck brought back a multitude of feelings. It was good to see a familiar face again. At the same time, the last time they were together, Puck had expressed his desire for something deeper than friendship. It left Brittany conflicted and seeing him now did not alleviate such feelings. He pulled away and looked her in the eyes. He leaned down to kiss her and Brittany closed her eyes, expecting it.

"Brittany, I hope you are decent!" Quinn called.

"Damn!" Puck scrambled out the window. Brittany closed it just as the door opened. Quinn walked in and raised an eyebrow when she saw her over by the window, obviously panicked.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Opening the window, Miss. It's stuffy in here." She opened it again and smiled, doing her best to hide the fact that Puck was still hanging off the window ledge.

"Well, whatever it is, be ready. The Lopez family will be here any minute."

"What am I to do?" Brittany asked.

"I haven't decided that yet. Just be ready." Quinn said. Once she left the room, Brittany hoisted Puck back through the window. He laughed a little.

"I'd better go before things get too dangerous for me. Although going back won't be any less so, what with the stable master out for my blood." He joked. Brittany smiled.

"Take care, Puck." She said. "It was wonderful seeing you, seeing your face." She reached out and gently stroked his cheek. Puck leaned down again and this time kissed her without interruption. Brittany kissed back, looping her arm around the back of his neck.

"I don't know when I'll see you again." Puck whispered. "Probably when I can walk again."

"Tell the stable master I told him to go easy on you." Brittany said. Puck kissed her once again on the lips before letting her go. He clambered out of the window and Brittany leaned out to watch him descend, watching in mild disbelief as he made it to the ground. He looked up and grinned, his boyish, mischievous charm making Brittany break out into a giddy smile. It was then that she believed him. She had told her self night after night when she was younger that he played women with the skill of a master artisan at his craft. But telling one's self and believing one's self are two different matters entirely and Brittany, despite chanting that Puck was nothing but a heart breaker, innocently began liking him.

* * *

When the Lopez family arrived for the second day in two, Quinn wasn't sure what more she could do to convince Santana. When Santana stepped out of the carriage, her head held high and her expression unreadable, Quinn's heart dropped. Had she waited too long? She should've pressed the matter when she had the chance. As per usual, the three separated into the men of the family, the women and the daughters. Quinn regarded Santana quietly as they walked into the library. Santana pretended to study the books on the shelves while Quinn thought of the best way to approach the situation.

"Have you given any more thought to the matter?" Quinn asked. Santana smiled coolly and Quinn inhaled. She could feel that overnight, Santana regained her composure. Her walls were up and it was going to take much to bring them back down again. She cursed in her head. She should've made Santana choose when she was surprised. If only Brittany hadn't chased her away.

"I have." Santana replied cryptically. She eyed Quinn, daring her to ask, no, beg for an answer. Quinn could feel her previously sure plan slip away.

"I'm sure you've made the right decision." Quinn said. Santana could sense the tension in the air. Quinn was waiting for her answer and she knew what she had to do. She knew what was expected of her, what was right and what was holy.

"Then I'm sure you know what that decision is." Santana remarked. "Since you seem to know everything." Quinn knew what Santana was doing. She was forcing her Quinn to tell her that choosing a lowly servant over a Prince was the "right" decision. But by saying it aloud, she was making Quinn acknowledge just how stupid it was. Quinn's brain raced, trying to recover her quickly deteriorating plot.

"Please, tell me, dear Quinn. What would you have me say?" Santana paced the room, absently tracing her finger along the spines of the books. "Yes, Brittany was my favorite servant. But surely you can't expect me to choose her over the Prince, can you?" Santana's voice bubbled with sarcasm.

"I thought she meant more to you than just a servant." Quinn said. Santana laughed, though it was a bitter and forced laugh. She tried to ignore the pain in her chest and the voice in her head that screamed for her to choose Brittany.

"Then you're an idiot." Santana said. But she wasn't just speaking to Quinn, she was also yelling at herself for even considering Brittany. "What on earth were you thinking? Once I married the prince, I can have a thousand servants if I wish. What is one lowly peasant girl who can't even tie a ribbon correctly?" Her voice grew louder with every word and she stopped herself short of shouting. She paused. It was a lie. Brittany could tie her ribbons better than anyone in the world could. Brittany did everything correctly, perfectly. She looked up at Quinn, wondering if the other girl had caught on that she was trying to convince herself as much as she was Quinn. But the blonde girl seemed lost in her own thoughts to notice Santana almost losing her composure. Santana cleared her throat.

"To answer your question, Miss Fabray, I will be choosing Prince Fi-"

"She came back for you, you know." Quinn blurted. Santana halted in midsentence and the words gurgled in her throat. She exhaled harshly.

"What did you say?"

"Do you want to know what she said to me?" Quinn asked, her tone desperate. It was the last fight of a dying dog, but that last fight was going to be the most vicious of attacks. "She said that she wanted to see you. Do you understand that?"

"You're lying. You're simply upset because...because I am not falling for you tricks." Santana insisted.

"I am not lying, Santana. Why else do you think she would give up her family again? She did not come here to work for me, she came here to see you." Santana's legs shook and she swallowed the lump in her throat. Her eyes burned and every nerve in her body stood on end painfully. She felt like throwing up. She'd pretended to be sure. She had pretended that she didn't feel anything towards Brittany. But hearing those words, imagining Brittany's face as she said that to Quinn brought her self-protecting wall of lies crashing down around her.

"You lie." She managed again. Quinn grabbed her hand and together, they marched upstairs. Santana didn't fight the painfully tight grasp. She simply followed dumbly, processing what that meant for Brittany to want to be with her rather than her family. Without even knocking, Quinn went right into Brittany's room and practically threw Santana in front of her.

"Tell her." Quinn ordered.

"I'm sorry, Miss?" Brittany asked, startled by the sudden intrusion.

"Tell her why you agreed to work for me." Brittany paled. Her eyes darted to Santana, who glanced from the floor to her and back.

"I...I..."

"Out with it!" Quinn yelled.

"I can't..." Brittany whispered.

"Either you say it, or I will have you out of this house." Brittany bit her lip.

"I wanted...I wanted to see Mistress Santana again." She said so quietly that no one in the room properly heard her.

"Louder!" Quinn shouted.

"I wanted to see my Mistress again!" Brittany said barely any louder but Santana caught it. The room went still but it felt like her words reverberated around the words as if she had screamed it. Santana's lip trembled as the last of her resolve faded.

"Leave us for a moment." Santana requested. Quinn, sensing that somehow she'd come out on top, left immediately. Santana stared hard at Brittany.

"I'm sorry, Miss. I didn't mean to be a burden. I'm sorry, I'll leave. I've been nothing but trouble for you and this...this is unacceptable." Brittany looked around for a way to escape but Santana stood between her and the door. "I will leave at once, I belong with my family anyway. I..."

"That's enough." Santana said. She tried to quell it but warmth sprung from the pit of her stomach. Brittany wanted to see her. Brittany wanted to be with her so much so that she left her family behind and started working for Quinn Fabray. Santana bit her lip as the feelings she tried to suppress only grew with every second she thought about the meaning behind Brittany's action.

"Miss, please, I will leave immediately..."

"No!" Santana said too quickly. The urgency startled Brittany and Santana repeated it more calmly. "No."

"No, Miss?"

"Brittany, I deign myself to admit that I have missed you as well." Santana said. Her words were awkwardly formal and she coughed. "I'm happy to see you too." Brittany broke into a relieved smile.

"Miss!" She said happily.

"If you work for the Fabrays, then I can come see you." Santana said even though she knew what sacrifices needed to be made in order to do so. Brittany did not. "And I would like that very much." Brittany fought back the strong urge to hug her Mistress. She reminded herself that she was below Santana, that it was wrong. None of it could stop her body though and she reached out and embraced Santana. In the back of her mind, she marveled at how well Santana's body fit into her own and was even more surprised when Santana gently placed her hands on her back. Brittany pulled away, embarrassed by her lack of self-control.

"Pardon me, Miss, I don't know what came over me." She admitted. Santana's mind flew back to the night previous and, inevitably, the kiss. She wondered if whatever came over Brittany was the same thing that made her lean over and kiss her former servant. Just thinking about it sent her nerves alight and she knew she had to leave before that feeling compelled her to kiss Brittany again.

"If you'll excuse me." Santana said, making a motion towards the exit. Then, just before she walked out the door she turned around again. "Brittany, believe me when I say that it has made me happy to see you again." When she closed the door softly behind her, Brittany flopped down on the bed, giggling to herself. Everything seemed right again. Santana was in no way angry at her and Puck...it seemed like Puck truly liked her. She couldn't believe her own luck. To have those two wonderful people still in her life, it was more than she could've imagined after leaving. To work for Quinn Fabray was a small price to pay for it.

Outside, Quinn sat at her dresser and when Santana emerged from the room, she stood up and folded her hands. Before Quinn could open her mouth to say anything, Santana walked right past her.

"You have your damned deal, Fabray." She hissed as she walked past. "You have it." Quinn covered her smile with her mouth and she looked back at Brittany's room. No doubt that behind that door, Brittany was smiling to herself, thinking that she had gotten a friend back. But that girl had no idea the price Santana was going to pay for that friendship.


	12. Part 1: Tangled Webs

Battles between men are settled with swords and guns. Battles between women are hardly so simple. This Santana mused as she lay in bed. She wished it was that easy, it would give her no greater pleasure than to run a sword through Quinn's leg or shoulder. But they were women of society, and thus Santana needed to wage war the only way she knew how; through secrecy and a healthy dose of blackmail.

But how? Quinn Fabray was too smart to be caught up in anything scandalous. Quinn believed with every fiber of her being that the crown was rightfully hers, that Santana had miraculously swooped in overnight and stolen it from her. It was true, her father had appeared out of relatively nowhere. Her father had been a decently high ranking official until he saved young Finn. After that, the king practically promised marriage between Finn and Santana. But Quinn had never really been in the picture. Her family was, yes, very influential and close friends with the king. But she wasn't of royal blood. It was a long shot even for Santana to be considered in the running.

And yet here they were, both of them vying for something that wasn't theirs to begin with. But they were different in one regard. Along the way Santana had discovered something more important; Brittany. Brittany with her sun soaked hair and her azure stare was more important than Prince Finn could ever be to Santana. It was her fault, really. She never should've shown her weakness to Quinn. She mentally berated herself for opening up to her "friend" when Brittany left. She should've known Quinn would only use that to her advantage.

Mistakes like that could only be corrected one way; by finding something equally damaging. Santana wasn't too concerned about the crown. While she didn't want to relinquish it too easily, she had more pressing concerns. Quinn's "deal" would likely not be the last "deal". She imagined Quinn using Brittany whenever she had the chance. Santana stood to lose more than just a marriage proposal, she was at Quinn's mercy so long as she had Brittany and the knowledge that the two were more than just mistress and servant. She had to fight back to save herself and to preserve the steady company of her long time servant. If she found something against Quinn, she could even the playing field again.

But what? Santana grumbled and turned over, unable to sleep even though it was a quiet and cool night, rare for that time of year. She thought back to all the conversations she had with Quinn, combing through every word to find something that would crack open that steely facade. But she couldn't find anything that would make Quinn look less than perfect. She pulled the covers over her head and groaned in frustration. The only thing that would make her feel remotely better was to think of the next time she could go see Brittany.

"Just a few days." She whispered to herself. "Then I will see her again."

As the days grew more and more unbearably hot, Santana found it difficult to muster to energy for travel. She did not want to sit in a carriage all day for the inside grew as hot as a smith's forge. But eventually, the need to see Brittany was too much. She sent a messenger on ahead to announce her imminent arrival while she clambered into the carriage. She fanned herself with a white lace trimmed fan her father brought back from the country side. She desperately wanted to stick her head out the window and feel the breeze as it blew by but she knew it would only ruin her hair and she couldn't show up at Quinn's doorstep looking as though she walked through a storm.

She closed her eyes against the heat. The trip was far too long for her liking and she kept repeating to herself that it would be worth it to see Brittany again. She turned her attention outside where children played in the river. She crinkled her nose. How dirty and disgusting the river must be. The boys and girls were no more than six or seven. She imagined Brittany as a young girl and wondered if she too played in the muddy river like those children did. She imagined what life must've been like for Brittany. She'd heard about and seen the terrible conditions they lived in but surely they had some happy moments as well.

She wondered if Quinn had let on about their deal but dismissed the notion immediately. Quinn wouldn't do that, she guarded her secrets too closely and this was one of them. But Santana wondered what Brittany would say or do if she found out. Would she be repulsed by Santana's obsession with her? Would she be happy that Santana valued their relationship? Furthermore, would Brittany feel the same way? Just thinking about Brittany reciprocating those feelings, no matter how much of a stretch that scenario may be made Santana turn bright red. She started imagining what they would do, what they could do if Brittany's affection towards Santana matched her own. It was these thoughts that helped Santana pass the time as she sat roasting in the carriage.

* * *

Brittany played absently with the curtains in Quinn's room. Quinn had gone downstairs in anticipation of her guest, Santana. Brittany waited eagerly. She hadn't seen her former mistress in a while and she missed her company. As she pulled back the dark blue velvet curtains, she jumped about a foot in the air when she saw Puck just outside the window, about to knock.

"Puck!" She exclaimed, opening up one side. Puck clambered on in. "You simply cannot be visiting me like this! This is Mistress Quinn's room, not mine!"

"Don't be so concerned! I saw her downstairs, I knew you were alone." Puck replied, putting either hand on Brittany's waist. Brittany colored and pushed him away.

"She could return any moment!" Brittany hissed.

"Then we should make it count." Puck murmured in her ear. His breath tickled her skin and she shivered.

"You really shouldn't be doing this so often." Brittany said. "Especially since Santana is visiting today."

"They rarely need me. The Duke is away on business with the King and Prince, it's far too hot to ride. I'm doing nothing as of late." Puck explained. "What better time to visit you?"

"And what of the stable master?" Brittany asked.

"He's finally found himself a woman to beat him up so he's preoccupied." Puck replied. "Now, where were we?" He asked as he grabbed Brittany again. She smiled against his lips as he kissed her.. He was so kind, and gentle and he visited her so often that she had to remind herself of his reputation. This was the same boy who wooed Noel and she kept her words in the back of her head. _He has a certain charm. He draws you in and he never relents until he has you. _Puck pulled away.

"You seem tense. Is everything alright?" He asked. Brittany looked at him.

"Am I just another one of those servant girls you fool around with until you get bored?" She asked. Puck's hands dropped from her side. He bit his lip and looked down. Brittany folded her arms. "I am, aren't I?"

"No." Puck insisted. "No, you're special to me." He replied. Brittany's heart beat hard against her chest. _How so?_ She wondered. As if he could hear her thoughts, he scratched his head and went on. "You caught my eye the first day I saw you, do you remember that day?" He asked.

"Yes. You broke your arm."

"Never quite healed right." He said, touching it. "But you caught my eye. You had such determination and reckless courage. I was drawn to you. You've been my friend for so long..."

"You have been mine as well." Brittany replied, touching his hands. She smiled up at him. They'd been friends since they'd first spoken to each other. He never treated her the way he treated other women. He was kinder to her than anyone else. Perhaps it was only natural for their relationship to develop this way. She liked him well enough, he was handsome and strong and he had a way of making her pulse beat a little faster. She only wished she could trust him and trust that he wouldn't hurt her. But she had seen too many other servant girls fall for him and get hurt.

"I do want to be more than friends, let me be clear." Puck said, pulling her close again. As conflicted about her feelings as she was, she felt her face flush hot. He was a lady's man, no doubt about it and she decided to allow herself just a little indulgence in his affections. _I know what I'm getting into._ She swore to herself. Brittany was just about to give into his advances when she heard the gatekeeper shout that a carriage had arrived. She pushed Puck away and ran over to the window.

"She's here!" Brittany called excitedly. Puck rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm.

"You seem less excited to see me than you are to see someone who made you follow her around and do work for her all day."

"It's more than that." Brittany said before checking herself. She almost revealed that they were more than just master and servant and that they had developed a friendship almost as equals. "It's...well anyway you need to leave." She said. Puck sighed and ran his fingers across his close shaven head. He never understood why Brittany didn't mind when Santana ordered her around.

"Go! Before they catch you here!" Brittany insisted. Puck's shoulders slumped and he felt frustrated for having taking the time to walk all the way to the estate, climbing precariously up the wall just to be ushered out. Brittany noticed his demeanor and walked over to him, taking his hands in her own.

"I'm sorry." She apologized. "I don't want anything bad happening to you. I promise, when you visit next, you don't have to climb any walls. I'll come down to you." Puck brightened a little.

"I'll hold you to that." He said.

"I'll even jump if you'll catch me." Brittany joked. Puck smiled and nodded. He looked out the window and heaved another sigh. It was time to make the trek back.

When Santana finally reached the estate, the sun was just reaching its peak in the sky and Santana stepped out, absolutely covered in sweat. Even though the breeze was hot, anything was better than the interior of that abominable heat trap.

"You look parched, Santana." Quinn said. Santana glared at her. Both of them knew full well Santana wouldn't go to such lengths normally but they were hardly in a normal situation.

"Let's just get this over with." Santana snapped, storming past her into the cool shade of the estate. Quinn followed, her nose wrinkling when she picked up traces of sweat from Santana's clothes. Quinn picked up the pace of her walking and led Santana through the house. Just as they rounded the corner, movement from outside caught Quinn's eye and she stopped dead in her tracks. She watched the library window intently, waiting for something else. It was far too large to be a bird.

"Why have you stopped?"

"Go on ahead." Quinn replied. "I will be there shortly." Santana shrugged. She knew her way around Quinn's home well enough. She walked up the long set of stairs, partly covered by a red rug with gold trimming that extended all the way up and down the hallway. Quinn was about to follow her into the room when she saw a leg dangle in front of the window. She gasped as a man jumped down from above and landed on the ground with a thud. Quinn knew there was only one place that man could've come from. The library was directly under her room. He had come from her room and she certainly did not remember inviting any man into her chambers. Furthermore, that man...that man looked familiar. When she remembered where she had seen him, she turned heel and ran down the stairs intent on dealing painful and lasting punishment.

Santana opened the door to Quinn's room and peered inside. Brittany stood by the window and she closed it just as Santana walked in.

"Miss Santana! It's so good to see you again!" Brittany said. She didn't bother hiding her excitement. She bowed low and grinned from ear to ear. Santana studied her. She seemed skinnier, tanner, slightly more worn and tired. Santana wanted Quinn to enter the room so that she could yell at her for not taking good care of Brittany. But thinner as she was, she was still radiant and Santana turned away as soon as she felt her face redden.

"How have you been?" Santana asked though it was more towards the wall than it was to Brittany.

"Well. Quinn has been paying me more than enough." _And working you three times as hard._ Santana thought bitterly. "I can't wait to see the look on my family's faces when I bring it all back." Santana looked down at her feet and coughed. Her eyes darted towards the door, half hoping that Quinn would walk in. She couldn't even look at Brittany's face. Brittany eyed Santana warily. The atmosphere around her was strange. It was stiff and formal. She was used to Santana greeting her with a smile. An uncomfortable quiet settled between them and they both wait and waited for Quinn to walk through the door and break the tension. But Quinn never showed.

* * *

Quinn raced outside and looked around. She knew what she saw, it was that tramp, Puck, climbing out of her house's window! How dare he break in? How dare he so much as set one dirty foot on her property? The thought of his dirty hands on her windowsill, his manure covered feet on the rug her father just brought back from the East made her blood boil. She growled, determined to find him and reprimand him. But he was no where in sight. Something rustled beside her and she turned just in time to see Puck emerge from the bushes and take off towards the woods.

"You come back here!" She yelled. "Someone catch him." But there was no one around her to hear. He was going to get away. She held up her dress and chased after him. Puck ran as if he had never run before. Santana was a mean mistress but Quinn Fabray was downright terrifying, even though she was beautiful. He raced through the trees, dodging branches and vines as they threatened to end his run for freedom. He dared not look behind him for fear of seeing Quinn hot on his heels like a hellhound. As he ran, he could hear Quinn screaming behind him angrily. Suddenly, she let out a high pitched and frightened scream and the woods went silent. Puck stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. He looked through the darkness for any sign white bearing down on him but he saw no one.

"Miss Fabray?" He called out tentatively. No one responded. He started walking backwards cautiously. "Miss Fabray, are you there?" Still no response. He turned back around. Perhaps she had given up and gone home. But that scream had not been natural. He knew something was wrong and turned around again. He started running back the way he came. He tried to trace his tracks but he had run such a zig-zag path that it was difficult for him to find his way.

"Miss Fabray!" He yelled and his voice bounced off the tree trunks. His heart pounded against his chest. Where was she? He squinted in the darkness caused by the canopy of trees branches and leaves overhead. He spotted something white near the ground a few feet away. He sprinted over to it and looked around. He heard soft cries nearby and he looked over to his left. The ground sloped steep just a few feet from where he stood. At the bottom of the slope, Quinn Fabray clutched her left ankle gently as she whined in pain.

"Miss Fabray!" Puck slide down a good ten feet and scrambled to her side.

"I-I think it's broken." Quinn cried. Puck grasped her foot and pulled her hands away to get a better look. Quinn winced and yelped in pain. Working around horses, Puck had seen his fair share of injuries, either on himself or on others. He gently touched the joint where Quinn had been clutching.

"Does it hurt?"  
"Yes!" Quinn snarled, snatching her foot away quickly. Puck sighed in relief. If she could move it like that, it probably wasn't broken.

"I need to be sure." Puck said, reaching for her foot again. She swatted him away.

"Not while I have energy in me!" She yelled. Puck laughed at her.

"It's probably not broken." He reassured.

"How can you be certain?" Quinn countered. Puck sat down.

"You can move it. It's probably more a bruise or twist than anything else. You did fall quite a ways." He replied. "It doesn't look swollen to me either."

"You are no doctor." Quinn snapped as she rubbed her hurting ankle. Puck shrugged.

"No, Miss, I'm not. But I'm the best you have right now. Besides, I probably know more than your silly doctors and I will be of more use than their potions ever will be." He grinned cheekily. Quinn rolled her eyes and curled her lip in disgust. Puck stood up.

"What are you doing?" Quinn demanded. Puck started climbing back up the slope.

"Well, if you're alright, then I'm going to continue running. Think of it as a head start." He winked.

"No!" Quinn ordered. "You can't just leave me here! Who will help me?"

"I said that it wasn't broken." Puck sighed.

"I command you to say." Quinn said. Puck laughed and began climbing again. "No! I order you to help me back to my estate! Come back!" Puck turned to regard her over his shoulder. She glared angrily at him and he found himself fighting back another laugh. She looked pitiful in her state. Her dress was ruined and her hair was a mess. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her and so he slid back down and took a seat next to her.

"If you stop being so stubborn, I will stay." He said. Quinn bared her teeth and wanted to snap at him some more but she didn't want to be left alone in the woods to die. She removed her hand and extended her leg towards him. He grabbed the foot delicately.

"I will put a little pressure on it, tell me when it is too much." He warned. He tilted the ankle sideways and Quinn made a face after a split second. He stopped and laughed. "Is that it?" He asked. "You cannot take pain, can you?"

"It hurts! I told you it's broken!" She exclaimed. Puck tilted her ankle back the other way. He looked at her face which was shrouded in deep in concentration. She tried desperately to keep her pride this time around that he felt badly for laughing.

"Does it really hurt?" He asked.

"No." Quinn shook her head furiously. "It does not."

"If it really hurts, then perhaps it..."

"I said it doesn't!" She shouted stubbornly. Puck set her foot back down.

"Let's rest a bit. Then we'll see if you can walk." He suggested. Quinn groaned and ran a muddy hand through her hair, shrieking when she realized what she did.

"It's disgusting here!" She said exasperatedly. Puck smiled. To him being outdoors was something he loved. He liked the breeze, the shade that the trees provided and even the smell of the earth around him. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Quinn regarded him curiously.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Enjoying a lovely day with a lovely lady." He remarked. She raised an eyebrow.

"You could get flogged for saying such improper things to someone like me." She replied.

"I get flogged for much less than that." He said, winking at her. "I get into plenty of trouble, you see." Quinn should've been mad at him for many things; breaking into her room, leading her on a chase that resulted in her spraining her ankle, making lewd remarks towards her. Yet he had a certain good humor about him that, despite her situation, put her in a slightly lighter mood. She found him repulsive and fascinating at the same time. Here was a man who clearly didn't think about the consequences of any of his actions while she had to think twice about taking an extra piece of fruit in front of guests.

"What on earth were you doing in my room?" Quinn asked.

"I was visiting Brittany." He replied. "We used to work together at the Lopez estate." Quinn raised an eyebrow and smiled knowingly.

"Oh?" She said curiously. "Visiting a young servant in her room?"

"We are friends." Puck blurted. The instant he did, he found himself wondering why he didn't tell the truth. They were more than friends, not quite lovers but certainly the interest was there. Yet he had lied and he wasn't sure why.

"Just friends?" Quinn asked. Before Puck could correct himself, Quinn changed the subject. "Well, it's certainly none of my business what you paupers do in your time, whether it's visiting 'friends' or rolling in the mud like pigs. Just do not break into my room again. I could have you drawn and quartered for that." She threatened again.

"And I could leave you in the woods by yourself and no one would be the wiser." He responded. It was true. Who knew what wild, hungry beasts lived out here roaming in search of easy prey like her? She looked up at the rustling leaves of the forest and then back down at Puck who was staring at her. Perhaps she had found a beast in the woods already.

Puck couldn't help it. Quinn was stunning in ways he could not describe. She was refined, cool, collected and something he could never have. He'd never wanted noble women before. It was far too much trouble and too much risk to his neck to pursue them. He liked sticking with servants who had looser morals and less danger to his well being. But he had to be blind not to see that Quinn was easily one of the most beautiful girls in the land. Even if he had no chance, at least he could revel in her presence a little more.

She felt uncomfortable. No one had ever stared at her with such intensity. Noblemen had been trained not to stare too long for it was rude to do so. But Puck hadn't been raised a nobleman and had no qualms about admiring her.

"You are making me ill at ease, looking at me like that." Quinn said, turning her head so he couldn't see her full face anymore. He snapped out of his trance and leaned back onto his hands. He remembered Brittany and felt badly for looking at another woman. But it was in his nature and he could not defy something so ingrained in him.

"Who said I was looking at you?" He sneered, turning in place.

"Don't be ridiculous, what else were you looking at?" She laughed.

"I was deep in thought, if you must know."

"Oh, I see." She responded sarcastically. "And what required so much of your attention? Oh, nevermind, I don't want to know." Puck rolled his eyes and looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, putting on an unamused expression.

"You know I can still leave."

"Fine." Quinn said, putting up her hands. "My ankle doesn't hurt quite as much anymore, I'll be fine in a few moments. I wonder how your manhood would feel, though, leaving a helpless lady in the woods alone."

"My manhood would feel just fine." Puck countered. "If not, there are plenty to make it feel better."

"I'm sure." Quinn smirked. "You do have your pick of horses as a stable boy." Puck felt dumbfounded. He had never had such a caustic conversation with anyone except the stable master. He never thought that a noblewoman would be making such crude jokes, especially not Quinn Fabray. But there she was, countering his every sentence with a sharp one of her own. It should've made her unladylike but he couldn't help but feel more attracted by her barbed tongue. He began staring again and Quinn shifted.

"I do believe my ankle is better." She said quickly, hoping to cut his intense gaze short. It did the trick and he hurried to his feet.

"Of course." He replied. He held out his hand for her to take and she grasped it. He pulled her to her feet quickly and she marveled at his strength. She took one delicate step forward and winced. He reached for her arm to steady her but she put out a hand to stop him.

"I'm fine." She replied and took another step forward. Puck watched her with a concerned eye but in time, the pain subsided.

"Shall I walk you back?" Puck asked. Quinn turned her head up and gave him a thoughtful look.

"Of course." She responded. "A gentleman would walk a lady back to her estate." Puck smiled and bowed low, going along with the little charade. He held out an arm for her to take but she did not accept the gesture.

"We aren't quite there yet. You have a lot of work to do if you want to be a gentleman." She said, brushing past him coldly. Puck almost laughed again in disbelief. This girl...she was certainly not the average lady. He had never been interested in noblewomen before. But there were always exceptions.

* * *

Santana and Brittany sat in the room in the dead silence. Santana didn't know what to say to Brittany. Her heart pounded right in her ears, deafening any thinking she wanted to do. Brittany also felt awkward but for a different reason. She wasn't sure why Santana was being so quiet. Normally, they would chat away about anything in particular. Brittany feared that perhaps their time apart had given Santana a chance to reflect and remember that a servant was not worth her time. Her eyebrows furrowed with worry. If that was the case, then Santana wouldn't visit her as often, perhaps she would forget about her altogether.

"Are you angry with me?" Brittany asked.

"No." Santana replied, shocked. "Why in God's name would you think that?"

"We haven't spoken a word since you got here." Brittany said.

"I don't know what to say to you." Santana answered. Brittany took it the wrong way and withdrew, hurt by her words. Santana cursed under her breath. "That's not what I meant, Brittany. I meant no disrespect to you. I simply have led a boring life recently."

"My apologies, you needn't explain yourself to me. I was out of line." Brittany said and the two went back to silence. Santana faintly wondered where Quinn was. The girl had been gone a long time and though she treasured her time with Brittany alone, the situation wasn't getting any better. It was rather strange. She spoke eloquently for hours on end in the presence of nobility and here she was, sitting in a room with a peasant unable to put together two words. Something was terribly wrong.

Music drifted to the room from below. Someone was playing the piano and playing it very well. It was a pleasant, energetic tune and Santana recognized it as one of the pieces her instructor tried to teach to her. It was very popular at parties. Wordlessly, Brittany got up and started dancing with an invisible partner. She wasn't sure why she started dancing, perhaps it was to do something, anything, instead of sit around without talking or even looking at each other.

The action was so absurd that Santana started laughing. Upon hearing it, Brittany stopped and smiled. Santana placed a hand over her mouth quickly to stifle the wide mouthed laugh from ruining her image, even it if was just in front of Brittany. But hearing seeing her Mistress happy again made Brittany smile from ear to ear.

"What's so funny?" Brittany asked. "Is my dancing that bad?"

"No, no." Santana put a hand in front of her. "I've just never seen anyone so bored that they start dancing with invisible gentlemen!" Brittany laughed as well, though she didn't make the effort to contain her mirth. The two quickly forgot about the awkwardness that had filled the room and immediately the returned to the friendly, relaxed atmosphere that had become the norm during Brittany's stay at the Lopez estate.

"It is silly, isn't it?" She said and squatted down.

"Please don't stop." Santana requested. "You're actually very good at it. Much better than I ever was." She tilted her head curiously. "Where did you learn to waltz like that?"

"Watching you, Miss." Brittany replied. Santana flushed instantly and looked down at the ground. "Whenever you had lessons, I always watched. It was the most interesting thing and the easiest to learn. I could never learn all those languages, or play an instrument but when you had dance lessons, it just...it came naturally." Brittany explained and her eyes glazed over as she recalled looking through the cracks of the door at the giant, lanky dance instructor that always criticized Santana's foot placement.

"Well, you are a natural, Brittany." Santana complimented. "I have terrible coordination in comparison." She was exaggerating, of course. Santana had practiced until she had the waltz down. She needed to be perfect in everything she did, even if her dance partner, often the Prince, had two left feet and couldn't stumble his way out of an ox pen. Silence threatened to descend on the two again and Brittany scrambled to find any topic of conversation to keep it at bay.

"I could teach you." Brittany blurted before she thought it through. Santana's eyes widened and Brittany turned bright red. "Wh-what I meant was if you need any lessons..."

"We are bo-both women, Brittany, who would lead?" Santana stammered, trying to remain calm even though her heart started racing far too quickly for the rest of her body to keep up. Her head felt light. She was glad she was sitting for she would've toppled over had she been standing.

"I will." Brittany said, deciding to commit herself to her suggestion. "I know how to lead. Besides, I'm taller so it's only natural..." She swallowed. "I'm sorry, I've been far too forward as of late..."

"No, no, I desperately need the lesson. I have a party to attend with the Prince soon and I am sure there will be a full orchestra. If I don't learn it by then..." Santana trailed off, hoping that she didn't sound too eager to dance with another woman. But if Brittany noticed, she did not let on that she did. In fact, a shy smile spread across her face and she extended a hand to her Mistress.

"Well, if you don't mind me being incredibly informal and rude, Miss, I will be glad to teach you."

"I never minded before, did I?" Santana said, taking her hand. Brittany pulled Santana to her feat, a task she thought would've been harder. But her former Mistress was light and she realized how frail Santana was. Brittany suddenly felt self-conscious in a way she never felt before. She wondered if Santana noticed the callouses on her hands, the rough muscle that showed against the thin cloth of her sleeves and the roughness of her movements. In comparison, she felt like an ogre standing next to Santana. She was not delicate and beautiful like her former Mistress.

"Is something the matter?" Santana asked, pulling her hand away slightly. She wondered if Brittany noticed the faint blush on her cheeks or if she could hear the way her heart pounded against her chest. Brittany snapped back to attention and shook her head. She tightened her grip on Santana's hand.

"It's nothing, Miss. I just..." She wanted to say _"I feel unworthy of your company."_ But she refrained. "You know where to place your feet, correct?" She placed Santana's one hand on her shoulder and Santana gently pressed against her back. The other hand she took in hers and she placed her own hand on Santana's waist. The music hadn't stopped and in fact had picked up tempo.

"1, 2, 3..." Brittany counted aloud and swept Santana backwards. At first their movements were clumsy. The two of them were so nervous and Santana kept thinking about how not to mess up that she wound up stepping on Brittany's foot; a mistake she hadn't made since she was 12.

"I'm sorry." Santana mumbled.

"It's fine. You're very light, I hardly felt anything." Brittany reassured. Santana forced herself to look Brittany in the eye. It was rude not to at least make eye contact with one's dance partner. But when she did, her eyes locked into place and everything in the room melted away. It happened for Brittany as well. One second they were dancing in the darkness of Quinn Fabray's room with faint piano music drifting upward from the main hall and the next they were dancing alone in a giant ball room with a full orchestra playing just for them. They could picture it in their heads – the large white marble pillars ascending towards a tall ceiling, the shine of a well polished floor beneath them so their feet could practically fly with every step, the large glass windows letting in the sun on a bright summer day making the glass and gold around them sparkle and glint with every turn they made.

Santana couldn't tear her gaze away from Brittany's, nor did she want to. Her entire body reacted to her beautiful, blonde dance partner. Her feet found their steady rhythm, turning from _1-ish...2 and a little_ to a calculated and perfect _1 and 2 and 3... _Her body melted into Brittany's hand and her muscles relaxed, letting Brittany lead on. She was more perfect a dance partner than any man. Her hold was firm, her eyes sure and her smile confident. Had Quinn Fabray charged into the room with a garrison behind her, the two would not have noticed. Santana would've given up a thousand crowns for that moment with Brittany.

Brittany didn't understand it but she knew the intensity of Santana's gaze was not normal. It was too tender, too powerful and too complicated just to be friendship but she wasn't sure what else it could be. She knew Santana was breaking all sorts of fancy nobility rules, strict rules of conduct or something that she didn't understand because she was never born into it. And she knew that even if they couldn't say it out loud, they were friends. But in her six years serving Santana, she'd never seen her Mistress look at her as she did now. It was almost too much for her to bear.

As if the pianist could sense the impending scandal about to occur, he stopped playing and the two were brought violently back to reality. They both looked away quickly, both hearts racing but only one knew what it meant. Santana let go of Brittany and tried to move away. Her former servant clung to her hand just a second longer than she meant to, a gesture that did not escape Santana's notice. They walked to opposite sides of the room and just as Brittany opened her mouth to say something, the door opened, causing both of them to jump about a foot in the air as it slammed against the wall. It was one of the other servants.

"She's not here either." He said in a disappointed and slightly worried tone of voice. "Have either of you seen Miss Quinn?" Santana shook her head.

"No, she's been gone for a while." The truth was, Quinn could've been gone a day. That dance with Brittany lasted an eternity and a precious few seconds at the same time. For them, time had been distorted they were so lost in each other's presence.

"Odd." The tall, dirty blond haired man commented. "She came downstairs not too long ago. She ran off into the garden and I haven't seen her since. Marquess Fabray sent me to find her." His gaze turned sharply towards Brittany.

"You, you're her personal servant. Go off and find her." He ordered. Brittany bowed respectfully and hurried out of the door. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Lopez."

"No, not at all." Santana said, glad that the music had stopped when it did. A moment earlier and they would've been caught in a very compromising situation. "I will go with you." She suggested. Thinking that Santana was talking to him, the male servant scratched his head sheepishly.

"Miss, you needn't tro-" Santana pushed past him, disappointing him when she caught up to Brittany. The two walked side by side quietly. Brittany didn't know why she felt so flushed and hot and she gripped her hands together. She didn't understand Santana. She would've bet a sack of gold coins that no matter how long she worked for Quinn, Quinn would never exhibit the same amount of affection and leniency Santana showed her on a constant basis.

"Why are you so kind to me?" Brittany asked softly. Santana blinked in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not your servant anymore and...any...friendship..." She looked around for anyone who might've heard and Santana instinctively did the same. "Any friendship of mine would only cause you trouble."

"It's because I enjoy your company." Santana replied. _And...what I feel for you I will never feel towards anyone else._ "You were my servant for six years." Brittany wanted to point out that many women had personal servants and none of them formed a deeper attachment to them. None of them snuck out at night to deliver birthday presents or risk their lives to save another peasant. It was just Santana. But she could not speak her mind because the idea that Santana was above her in rank would never leave her head.

Santana grasped with how to explain her feelings towards Brittany. She wanted nothing more than to tell her what she really meant to her, that they were friends, no, more than friends in Santana's mind. They were soulmates of a sort and Santana wanted to explain that it wasn't chance that brought them together those six years ago in the auction house. They were bound together by fate, what else could it be?

They walked outside and Brittany glanced around, not particularly focused on finding her new Mistress. She knew once they located Quinn, her time with Santana would end. It would go back to being Quinn and Santana talking about the usual topics while she hovered in the background waiting for every beck and call. Just as Santana opened her mouth to start talking again, something white caught the corner of her eye and she turned her head to see what it was. She squinted to get a better look but her eyes flew open immediately when she saw who it was. At the edge of the forest, close the cobblestone road leading up to the Fabray estate, Quinn was walking back towards the estate from the woods. When she looked into the trees, she saw a tall figure walking in the opposite direction. She looked closer, wondering who it was. As if he heard her thoughts, the man turned around. Santana's mouth dropped open in shock. It was Puck.

"Miss?" Brittany asked. "Is there something wrong?"

"B-Brittany." Santana stammered. "Go look on the other side, perhaps she is lounging in one of the chairs on the porch and fell asleep." Brittany started at her strange request but she did not question it. It was lucky that she did not spot Quinn or Puck in the distance as she walked off towards the far side of the house. Once Brittany disappeared around the corner, Santana ducked behind a bush and peered out between the neatly kept branches. Quinn stopped at the side of the house. Her dress was dirty, covered in mud and Puck was walking away, smiling It was a smile even Santana could recognize, the self satisfied smile of a man who had done something he wasn't supposed to. She gasped at the thought of what it may be.

Why else would Puck be here? She thought back to all the times she had seen Quinn and Puck interact and they weren't many. They'd never directly spoken to each other in her memory. Was Puck vising Quinn? If so when on earth did Puck it start? And why was Quinn's dress all muddy, especially down the back? There was only one reason for that. Quinn had been lying down and she could only think of one reason why a woman would be lying on her back in the middle of a woods in the company of a man.

The gears in her head started turning. It was as if God himself intervened to save Santana from the wrath of Quinn Fabray. She had been praying for a way to even the score with Quinn and this was the perfect moment. She watched Quinn and Puck from afar with a scrutinizing eye. Puck was too far to spot behind the dense shrubbery that grew among the trees. She grinned as she spied on them. Santana wondered how she was going to catch Quinn.

"There you are!" She walked from behind the bush, pretending as if she had just spotted the blond girl. "We have been looking all over for you!" Quinn's eyes flicked upwards, surprised.

"Was I gone long?" Quinn asked, feigning ignorance.

"We were all so worried." Santana replied. She faked gasped and looked at Quinn's dress. "Good Lord! What on earth happened? It looks like you've been rolling around with the pigs!" Santana smiled coyly.

"I slipped." Quinn answered simply, with no trace of guile in her voice. Her eyes challenged Santana to press on about what she was doing. Santana frowned. She opened her mouth to accuse Quinn of fooling around with Puck but she realized that she needed more evidence than something she saw. She hadn't seen them in close proximity at all, hadn't heard them talking to each other privately or anything just as bad. She needed to catch them together.

"Well, certainly be more careful next time, I'm sure that dress was quite expensive." Santana said, backing off for the moment. Quinn, sensing she had won that round, smiled triumphantly but she never let her guard down.

"Let's go back inside, shall we? I need to get changed as you may have noticed." Quinn led Santana back inside and they walked up to her room. Brittany was already there, waiting for Santana to get back. When she saw Quinn, she stood up from the chair she sat on and hurried over.

"Miss!" She exclaimed. Santana felt a little disappointed when she realized Brittany was not referring to her.

"Brittany, please fetch a new dress for me." Quinn ordered.

"Which one, Miss Quinn?" Brittany asked.

"Any of them, really." She replied. Brittany nodded and walked over to the wardrobe. She picked out a sky blue dress and brought it over. Quinn turned around and Brittany unzipped her. Quinn watched as Santana's jaw clenched. She smiled inwardly. That would teach Santana to pry into her business. That look on Santana's face, the one that let Quinn know she had the upper hand made her feel wonderful. Everything was finally falling into place.

But unbeknownst to the young Fabray, Santana had a plot of her own. Even though it made her seethe to watch Brittany tend to someone other than herself, she knew she didn't have the power to get her way. Yet. With Puck suddenly in the picture, she had a new plan of attack. She would do exactly what Quinn did with Brittany if possible. But first she needed to confirm that what she saw was more than coincidence. The seeds of a malicious counter attack were sown. All Santana had to do now was to cultivate it into fruition.


	13. Part 1: If I Bare My Soul to You

Puck leaned down with a hazy look in his eyes and pressed his lips to hers. He trailed kisses down along her cheek, brushing away her blond hair and whispering incoherent words in her ear before resuming his path down her neck and along her collarbone. She wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him further into the soft hay. The smell of lust mingled with the smell of the barn, the two things Puck loved the most. The light from the afternoon sun streamed in, warming his bare back. He ran a finger across her pale arm.

"Come back up here." She coaxed and he lifted himself up. His eyes opened fully and met hers. His expression darkened and troubled. Where he should've gazed into sharp, slightly clouded blue eyes he saw light, proud, hazel eyes. Where there should've been freckles, the skin was unblemished and smooth. Where it should've been Brittany...

Puck awoke with a start, bolting upright. Instantly the cold air from the open loft window hit him like a bucket of icy water. His whole body was covered in sweat and he flung the covers off and let his legs dangle over the open area below. He rubbed his face with his hands, then hopped down a level, landing neatly on the hay. He opened the barn door and looked outside at the clear night sky. Using the light from the moon, he made his way down to the stream and flung water in his face.

It had not been the first night that he dreamed of Quinn. Ever since he had returned from the Fabray estate after the incident with Quinn, he couldn't get the noblewoman out of his mind. It would always start the same – he would always begin with Brittany and end with Quinn. It began how it should and always ended where he least wanted it to.

"Just a dream." He muttered to himself as he knelt in the damp grass next to the flowing water. The first night he tried not to over think it. The second night he ignored it completely. But when the dreams started occurring the fourth and now the fifth night, he knew something was wrong. He wasn't stupid, he knew he was attracted to the Fabray girl. But what startled him was how suddenly it came over him. He'd heard from gossiping servant girls about grandeur tales of love, of how a woman and man would fall deeply in love at first sight and marry each other then live happily ever after. He always scoffed at those stories. It would never happen to him, he thought to himself. And there he was, coming up with no other explanation for why Quinn was always in his thoughts and dreams. It embarrassed and tormented him. But she was a noblewoman and he was a stableboy. He had no chance in his lifetime.

It also troubled him that his first objection to the idea of being with Quinn was not Brittany. He groaned and flopped back, staring at the billions of stars above him. He wasn't sure what he wanted. He liked Brittany and he certainly wanted to bed her. But he wondered if he truly liked her, or if he was merely playing the part of a childhood friend turned lover. It was easy to do so and Brittany seemed willing to act opposite him. Of all the women he pursued, he had never pursued a friend. In his mind, he could see marrying Brittany and settling down but he wondered how much of that was because they got along beyond being lovers.

Puck sighed and closed his eyes. Quinn would marry in her class and he would do the same. That was that.

Not far away, Santana woke up in a cold sweat. She rubbed her eyes and let them adjust to the darkness. She too had dreamt of someone she could never be with. As if Brittany passed from Puck's dreams to Santana's, Santana still felt the warm embrace of her former servant as clearly as if it had happened seconds ago. She could hear the soft peal of Brittany's voice as she whispered, "I love you" before pressing her lips to the corner of Santana's.

There was little moonlight and Santana fumbled around, leading her awkward search around the room with her hands. She eventually found the door and walked out. As soon as she stepped from the darkness of her bed chamber, she could hear her father snoring loudly in the master bedroom. It was a little lighter out in the hall; the crescent moon shone on the side opposite her windows. She made her way downstairs with little trouble and wandered out back. She pulled her nightgown close to her body. It was cold out, a sharp contrast to the sweltering heat of the day and her body was covered in sweat which only served to make her shiver whenever the slightest breeze grazed her body. She made her way down to the garden where even the most nocturnal of creatures had gone to bed to make room for the morning songbirds and crickets. As soon as her feet touched the stone that began the semi-circular path around the area, she stopped. She looked out at the chestnut bench. Brittany used to sit there, always on the left side as if to save Santana just one step.

She exhaled into the cool air, walking briskly past the seating and down further past the well worn stone pathway. She spotted a familiar figure lying down near the stream. She paused for a moment, once again sinking into her thoughts. He was the key to getting Brittany back. She needed to be ruthless, to exploit him no matter what the consequences.

She didn't make a sound but Puck seemed to sense that there was someone watching him. He sat up and looked back. He spotted her, recognized her but didn't bother moving. He was too tired.

"Miss." He acknowledged as politely as possible. "It's late out, you should be in bed."

"You are not my father." Santana snapped. "You do not order me around."

"My apologies." He said before laying back down. He placed his hands under his head. He looked so carefree laying there, enjoying his freedom. He didn't have the future of his family to worry about, societal pressures. He could marry whomever he wanted but she…

Santana walked towards him as if in a trance. He heard her approach but made no move to look back. His thoughts were of Quinn and his mind could only handle thinking about one noblewoman at a time.

"It must be nice to be free of responsibilities." Santana remarked. The statement was meant to sound bitter but instead it came out pitiful. Puck smirked but in the dark Santana couldn't tell if it was more of a sneer or a sympathetic look.

"It must be nice being a person of noble birth." He countered. It was the only two things spoken that night. Both thought of women they could not have. Santana thought about her love for Brittany, how it was forbidden by law and religion. She thought of how her parents would react if she told them or if they found out. She wondered how Brittany would respond and she prayed that if one day, when she lost her mind and told her of the love that she harbored deep in her chest, that Brittany would respond in kind.

She hated Puck from the first day she met him. But he made good company for the moment. He didn't speak, he merely lay there lost in his own world. She felt less frightened by the darkness and strangely less alone. She guessed that their turmoil was similar, that Puck's thoughts were occupied by Quinn even if her guess was based on a mistaken interaction. _You can't have Quinn much the same way that I cannot have Brittany. _She thought sadly. They remained together for a little while before Puck got up and sulked back to the stable. Santana stood up shortly after, watching his hunched over figure retreat. She felt sorry for him. But she needed some way to counter Quinn's attack and unfortunately, he was the only available option. _It's all Quinn's fault._ She thought angrily and instead of dwelling on how unfair it may have been to Puck, she focused on how to hurt Quinn to justify her actions.

* * *

It was early morning when Brittany stirred to life. Quinn Fabray slept in far later than Santana ever had but Brittany had grown accustomed to waking at the crack of dawn to be there when called. Rather than attending immediately to her Mistress, who slept soundly in the next room, Brittany opened the windows to let in a bit of cool air before it got too hot later in the day. She inhaled the humid breeze and sat at the window, staring out. It was the longest she'd gone without seeing either Puck or Santana and she wondered if something had happened to either of them. But she would've heard if something happened to her former Mistress.

The thought of Santana made Brittany shiver unexpectedly. She looked at the window, contemplating whether or not to close it. She wasn't sure why her body suddenly trembled, as cool as the morning was, she was still perspiring. She thought about Santana again and her mind immediately flew to their last encounter and how Santana's eyes bore into her own as they danced to muffled music. She had felt so tranquil, so.._.at home_.

She shook her head and the thoughts went away. Her memory of Santana was so vivid that she felt herself blush. It wasn't normal to think so much about a former Mistress. She decided instead to focus on something else. She thought about Puck and felt a little bit better. Her body and mind calmed and she felt comfortable once more.

By the time Quinn awoke, it was about time for her lessons. Her mother stormed in and threw the covers off of her. Quinn sat up, sleepily and Brittany waited until Marchioness Fabray stopped shouting and left the room before opening her door. Quinn sat at the edge of the bed, severely cross. Brittany moved to her dresser and opened it.

"What will you wear today, Miss?" She asked.

"Never mind that, get out of my way." Quinn snapped shoving her aside. Brittany sighed. Quinn wasn't remotely similar to Santana. She usually dressed herself, with the exceptions of any ribbons or corsets. But Quinn kept her distance from everyone, including her personal servant. Brittany stood by and watched as Quinn slipped into a dress and only motioned for Brittany to finish tying her up at the very end.

"I will be gone all day." She said curtly. "My father is going to take me on one of his political escapades. The man he is meeting with has a son and no doubt my father wishes to parade me in front of him to gain political favor."

"Yes, Miss." Brittany said.

"You may do as you like today. Visit your family if you wish. We should return later in the evening." Brittany tugged lightly on the bow to make sure it would hold for the entirety of the day. When she finished Quinn briskly pulled herself away. Brittany stood alone in the room. It would be a good time to visit her family. She waited in her room until she heard the carriage horses trot out of the gates and watched the white carriage disappear into the distance. She gathered her things and prepared to leave. Just as she finished tucking away her coin purse, comfortably filled for her family's use, a servant knocked on the door.

"Forgive my intrusion." He said. "But there's someone here who wishes to see you." Brittany stood up. Why would Puck enter through the main door? He certainly had no idea if the Fabray family was home or not.

"Let him in." She said and the servant motioned for a figure behind him to enter the tiny room. Instantly, Brittany dropped her sack and gasped in surprise.

"Noel!" She embraced her old friend tightly and the male servant made a discrete exit. "My Lord, it's been such a long time! What on earth are you doing here?" They pulled away from each other and Noel's face turned cross.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" She demanded. "Do you have any idea what it was like to wake up one morning and have one of your closest friends disappear? You didn't even say goodbye!" Brittany looked away apologetically. One of her biggest regrets from that night was not saying farewell to the woman who had been her companion since she arrived.

"I am terribly sorry for that." She apologized. "But it was so early in the morning and I didn't want to wake you..."

"Your excuses be damned!" Noel exclaimed. "I would halt even childbirth to say goodbye to you!" Brittany giggled at the thought of Noel telling her arriving child to wait just a moment while she hugged her goodbye. "But you must explain to me what occurred that day. I've only heard rumors and I'll have you know none of them are believable." Brittany put away her satchel. Visiting her family could wait another day, especially since Noel made the journey to see her.

The two of them sat in Brittany's quickly boiling room while she told Noel the story of how she and Santana went to rescue her younger sister. Noel listened and her mouth went slightly agape when Brittany got to the part where Santana threatened the Count with his own sword.

"My word..." Noel breathed. "It is far more exciting than the rumors ever were!" Brittany cocked an eyebrow. She was curious about what exactly the gossip was but she guessed it was better to leave it alone.

"I always thought of Santana as nothing more than a self centered noblewoman, just like the rest of them but this...this changes my entire view of her!"

"Santana is kinder than anyone thinks!" Brittany blurted before Noel finished. She blushed at her own strong reaction and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear awkwardly. "What I mean is..."

"I believe you, don't mistake me." Noel said, putting her hands out in front of her as defense. "It's just so hard for me to imagine her as someone warm and caring and willing to risk her own life for anyone else." Brittany opened her mouth to explain how but closed it when she couldn't find the words to do so. Santana just _was._ There was no way for her to tell Noel, she just knew deep down in her heart. Noel sensed her pensiveness and quickly changed the subject.

"Aren't you going to ask how I found out where you were?" She asked cheekily. Brittany snapped out of her thoughts.

"How?" Brittany asked even though she suspected the answer.

"You cheeky thing! You know I found out through Puck. I heard him talking with the stable master, or as you know, the stable master was yelling at him again. I overheard him yell how he was 'off to see that young blond servant again.' I knew it was you so I confronted Puck the minute the stable master stopped kicking his face in. He told me where you were after a little 'prodding.'" Noel grinned mischievously. "I hear he's been visiting you quite a lot." Brittany blushed.

"Well, yes..."

"If I had known that you fancied him, I never would've..." Noel trailed off. "What am I saying? I just wanted to let you know that I never..."

"I understand." Brittany reassured, placing her hand atop the older woman's. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure of it myself." Noel looked at her, puzzled.

"What do you mean."

"I'm just not sure of my own feelings." She admitted. "I do like him...but..."

"It's not love." Noel finished knowingly. Brittany's head shot up, causing Noel to smile sympathetically. She patted Brittany's knee. "My dear, you're so young. You've hardly experienced all life has to offer. If he isn't the one, then he simply isn't the one God meant for you to be with."

"But how do you tell?" Brittany asked. "Puck...he always brings a smile to my face. I feel happy with him. He is one of my closest friends."

"Friends do not make lovers." Noel said. Brittany stared at her, as if it was the biggest revelation she'd heard. Noel smiled and took Brittany's hand.

"How do you tell?" Brittany asked.

"You do. When you are with that person, you simply cannot bear to tear yourself away. When he looks at you, it's as if he strips you down to your soul. And when you are apart, all you can do is think of him and worry and dream." Noel said with a lofty look in her eye. Brittany's eyebrows knitted together. That certainly wasn't what it was like with Puck at all. Perhaps Noel was wrong. She had to be.

"I think you're wrong." Brittany laughed lightly. "If that were true, then I would be madly in love with..." Her voice caught on the name and the world stopped spinning around her. _Santana._ She finished her sentence with the thought. Her hand dropped uselessly to her side and she stared off into space. Her mouth opened in shock and it felt like every cell in her body went numb. Noel started calling Brittany's name but she heard none of it. Images of Santana once again flooded her head but they were all strung together by one word; _love._

"Impossible. No, that cannot be." Brittany whispered.

"What's impossible, Brittany, are you alright? Is the heat too much?" Noel asked concerned.

"I can't...no...I can't be..." Brittany said over and over again. Noel touched her forehead and the physical contact brought Brittany crashing back to reality. She stared at Noel with frightened eyes.

"Brittany, what happened?"

"It's nothing." Brittany replied but her voice cracked and she could feel tears spring to her eyes. _I'm in love with Santana..._She'd never been able to place the feelings she'd experienced. She never knew what they were. But now she understood. That uncomfortable feeling she got whenever Santana looked at her, the way her whole world lit up when Santana smiled and how she could not get her former Mistress out of her head and the fact that she would've done anything to be by her Mistress's side, all of that was because she was in love with her. It took just a moment's explanation for her to understand.

Everything came together all at once and it was too overwhelming for Brittany to handle. She buried her face into Noel's shoulder and cried. Noel, who didn't understand what was going on, did the best she could to try and comfort Brittany. She thought perhaps Brittany was crying because of Puck but she could not have been more wrong. When Brittany finally calmed down, Noel waited for an explanation patiently. But she never got one.

"What if..." Brittany whispered. "What if the...the person you love is someone you can never have?" She asked. She thought about how privileged Santana was and how sure it was that she would marry Prince Finn. Why would Santana give up all the riches and comfort that a future king could offer? And she didn't even begin to think of what society would do if they were together. She knew the punishment.

"I don't know." Noel answered honestly. She'd read so many books stating that love knew little bounds but she was far too practical for that. Love, no matter how passionate, had a limit depending on the circumstances and she would not give Brittany false hope. Brittany's heart broke a little more with every minute that passed, hammering in the thought that Santana would never reciprocate her feelings.

Noel stayed with her for a little longer, making sure that Brittany had sufficiently calmed. But she could tell that her words had a profound effect on the younger girl and that she would not be the same. Something within her sparked and there was no going back once the knowledge had been planted. When Brittany's feelings settled, Noel felt she'd over stayed her welcome. She looked at the girl sadly. She hadn't meant to dampen the mood. Quite the opposite, she'd expected to gossip a little with her friend about the men in their lives.

"Look what I've done." She said. "I've ruined the day."

"It's alright." Brittany said weakly. "You've...you've opened my eyes." Noel smiled a fake smile. Though Brittany did her best to reassure her that she did nothing wrong, she couldn't help but feel terrible. Brittany walked her down the stairs and out the front door where they said their goodbyes.

"I'm truly sorry, Brittany." Noel apologized. "I didn't mean to make you sad."

"Please, don't worry about it." Brittany pleaded. "I...it's better that I know what love is and what it isn't." Noel sighed and looked around for any help. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted someone making their way through the trees and she almost jumped. It was Noah coming out of the forest, walking with his hands in his pockets. She stared at him and Brittany followed her gaze until she too saw who was walking towards them. His eyes flicked up and hers flicked down, ashamed of herself and her feelings for Santana.

"I'll leave now." Noel whispered. She hugged Brittany tightly. "Good luck." Puck looked at Noel, slightly surprised to see her. She didn't bother making eye contact with him, she already felt awkward enough. Puck watched her as she walked down the dirt path.

"She came to visit." Brittany explained. Puck nodded. He turned to her and sighed. His eyes had dark circles under them, as though he had slept very little the previous night. Brittany touched his cheek gently. "What's wrong."

"I need to speak with you." He said. Brittany nodded silently and the two walked into the estate, ignoring the leers and the knowing looks that the other servants threw their way. They went up to Brittany's room and Brittany closed the door. Puck flopped down on the bed, pensive. Brittany had never seen him look so deep in thought. An irrational fear that he somehow figured out that she was not in love with him but with Santana popped into her head and she frantically tried to hide her panic.

"I..." Puck began. He sat up and took her hand. He placed his forehead against her arm and he closed his eyes. "You must believe me when I say that I care for you." Brittany's heart sank. What was he about to say

"But...?" She continued for him.

"I'm confused. I've started developing feelings for another." Brittany withdrew her hand and Puck looked up at her and grabbed it quickly. "But it will never happen, it cannot happen." Brittany bit her lip. She contemplated telling him that she too had fallen for another but he looked up with eyes so pathetic that she kept it to herself.

"I beg you." He said. "It is fleeting. Stay with me until I sort out these feelings."

"Puck..." She began to protest. It wasn't right for either of them. And yet, she couldn't bear losing Puck, not while she was in such a painful emotional state. She looked into his genuine brown eyes. She saw promise of stability in his eyes.

"I will not leave you." He swore and Brittany believed him. Perhaps they could work it out together. Perhaps in time, Brittany would forget about her love for Santana and it would fade like a bad memory. And Puck too, would do the same. They would seek comfort in each other from the torture and in doing so, maybe they could kindle something close to love.

She needed him. She could not stand having nothing. To see Santana fall in love and marry another, well, she couldn't do it alone. Puck would be her rock and she would be his.

"I won't leave you either." She croaked. Puck smiled softly and pulled her down onto his lap.

"We will make it through this." He said and hugged her. She could feel his desperation all too keenly for it mirrored her own.

The sun was just setting when Puck walked into the stable. He set down his cap and sighed. Quinn had been gone all day and had Puck been with any other girl, he would've taken advantage of the Fabrays' absence. But he could not bring himself to do anything other than lie there and think about his situation.

"There you are." The stable master spoke suddenly and he jumped.

"There wasn't any work to be done today." Puck instantly defended.

"I'll get you later. For now, there's someone who wishes to speak with you." The stable master stepped aside and Santana stepped forward.

"I've been waiting for a very long time." She said quietly. "It's very rude to keep a lady waiting."

"You're no lady." Puck sneered. Santana smirked at his cheekiness.

"I'll have your head for..." The stable master started to threaten but Santana cut him off with her hand.

"Where were you all day?" She asked. Puck turned away. He was in no mood to play questions and answers with her. She could bother him another day.

"Town." He lied.

"Don't be silly." The stable master snapped. "I know exactly where you were. You were at the Fabray estate with your sweetheart..." Puck gritted his teeth and tried hard not to punch the stable master for revealing his location. Upon hearing that, Santana grinned.

"I see." She said. "Well, let's not make up rumors, shall we?" Puck's eyes narrowed and he looked at Santana questioningly. "I came here to discuss a proposition for you. You could consider it a step up from shoveling horse manure every day." Puck turned to face Santana completely.

"I'm very happy where I am." He said coolly.

"No, you don't seem to understand." She said. "I'm offering you a chance to see your little sweetheart without the repercussions. The carriage driver is getting old, it won't be long before he'll fall asleep at the reins. We need to find a replacement and I suggested to my father that you take over." Puck thought of what it really meant. It meant seeing Quinn whenever Santana went to visit, it meant instead of moving on, he would be forced to see the woman he wanted far too often for his liking. But maybe that would also force him to move on faster. He could confront his feelings and rid himself of them that way. She took a step closer to him.

"I know about you and Quinn." She whispered into his ear. Puck paled and his fists clenched hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. Santana observed his reaction. Puck's blood boiled. How had she found out about his feelings towards Quinn? His brain scrambled to come up with an explanation but he could not find any reason that she could've known.

"Fine." He said, turning away from her again. He climbed the ladder to where he slept and flopped down on the threadbare sheet. Santana had grown accustomed to Puck's rude ways and shooed the stable master who tried to apologize in Puck's place. Santana made her way back up the garden. Seeing Puck's face confirmed her thoughts exactly. There was something there between them and she would exploit that as soon as she could.

As she pulled the sheets across her body, she thought of Brittany. _Soon._ She let out a content sight. _I won't be bound to Quinn Fabray. And I will find a way to bring you back to me. I promise._

Far away, Brittany looked out her window at the waxing crescent moon. She had thought all day of Santana and of her feelings. They did not fade and with every time she replayed Santana's existence in her head, they grew a bit more. _Perhaps with time._ She pleaded silently. She looked up at the sky where the stars shone. Her hands touched the silver bracelet encircling her wrist and her heart swelled. Not knowing why, she got down on her knees and folded her hands in front of her. She hadn't prayed like that since she was little, when she prayed to God to save her family. He had answered her prayers then and He brought her and Santana together. Surely he meant them to be.

"God." She began. "Almighty Lord, please hear my prayers." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I...I love Santana Lopez. So I beg to you, my Lord, I beg of you for this one selfish thing. Please, bring us together." She held the tears back. "I just wish...I wish for her feelings to match my own." She put her hands down and opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred from the unshed tears. "Amen."

* * *

At some point, even the most tangled of webs must either break or untangle. Such a time came two days later when Santana called Puck to sit beside the carriage driver and accompany her to the Fabray estate. Puck felt a sense of dread when he clambered up beside the old man and Santana too felt the pressure and weight of her intended actions. Today was the day she would launch her counter attack. She would make Quinn feel as she had felt for such a long time. She hadn't slept much the previous day and it made the anxiety so much worse.

The carriage ride went by far too quickly. They were at the Fabray estate before Santana could convince herself that she was ready to do it. Quinn was right there on the marble steps waiting for them. Brittany stood by her side and her heartbeat quickened when she caught a glimpse of Santana's face in the carriage. Her face flushed when Santana stepped out and looked directly at her. Puck's heart, on the other hand, dropped to his feet when he saw Quinn. He'd hoped that the precious few days he spent away would quell the ache in his chest. But it was clear it did not.

And so it was that the three came together, all yearning for people beyond their normal reach. Two sought comfort and refuge in each other, hoping that their forced feelings would one day morph into real ones. And the third buried herself in schemes and plots to mask her own conflict. Little did any of them know that it was that day, the day that all four players came together, that the heavens would deal their final hand.

"I have much to talk with you about." Santana said to Quinn. Her eyes barely flicked over to where Brittany stood. Brittany clenched her hands together, leaving deep imprints where her fingernails dug into her palm.

"Very well, you two can entertain yourselves, I take it." Quinn said coyly. Her eyes settled on Puck and Santana saw the recognition in her eyes. It was slightly surprised and only served to harden her resolve. Puck watched Quinn enter the estate and his chest hurt. He wondered if Santana was torturing him on purpose.

"She brought you along." Brittany said. Puck nodded. He wanted to scream and hit something. Quinn, merely by existing, drove him to the brink of insanity. _I need to forget._ He thought to himself. He grabbed Brittany by the wrist and dragged her away. Brittany knew his intentions. But seeing Santana, knowing deep down inside that she would never shake off her love for her former Mistress, went along willingly.

"What is it?" Quinn demanded as they entered her room. Santana closed the door behind her and grinned. It was time to make her move and strike down the mighty Quinn Fabray.

"I know about you and Puck." She said. Quinn set down the brush and slowly turned around. She looked confused, not frightened as Santana predicted.

"What?" Quinn demanded. Santana shrugged off the feeling that something was horribly wrong and went on.

"I know that you have been seeing him in secret." She said. "I saw you two together..."

"When?" Quinn asked.

"Last I visited." Santana said. "I saw you and Puck together. I've only now confir-" Quinn started laughing so hard she doubled over. Santana's blood ran cold when she heard it. Tears sprung to Quinn's eyes as she gasped for breath. She would've made a spectacle of herself had Santana not already done so. She brushed the tears delicately from her eyes.

"Oh you poor girl. Are you so desperate to defame me that you would make up such lies?" She asked.

"I know what I saw. You were gallivanting in the woods with him!" Santana insisted.

"You are pathetic." Quinn snapped. "Yes, it's true, we were in the woods together. But you are sorely mistaken about the cause. I caught that tramp sneaking out from my room..."

"And that should incriminate you further!" Santana's breath stopped in her throat and Quinn's smile spread thinly across her face.

"You poor, mistaken girl." Quinn mocked quietly. "He was not here to visit _me_. He was here to visit your friend, Brittany. Surely you knew that. You two were so close after all." Santana shook her head.

"That's impossible. He fancies you..." Santana murmured. Quinn laughed aloud again.

"More speculation?" She asked in between gasps for breath. Even though it wasn't, Santana could tell that Quinn was telling the truth. Puck did fancy Quinn, it just wasn't the other way around and Santana had made a horrible mistake. God was punishing her for trying to do something evil. But then why did God let Quinn get away?

"If you don't believe me," Quinn stood up and walked over to the window. she looked outside at the white stable situated far off in the distance. She could clearly see two figures, a blond girl and a brunette boy, ducking inside. "Why don't you go look for yourself?" She turned her attention to Santana who painfully made her way over to the window just in time to see the green and red of her servant's gown disappear into the shade. She turned on her heel and walked, at first slowly but then picking up speed, out of the room and down stairs. Quinn smirked in satisfaction and continued to look out the window. Soon she saw Santana jogging across the lawn towards the barn and waited until she was out of sight before drawing the curtains closed.

* * *

Puck pulled Brittany close to him and kissed her with fervor. Brittany placed her hands on his arms and pushed him away, surprised by the sudden action.

"Puck?" She asked. He closed his eyes and tried to kiss her again. She pulled her head back and avoided it. Something about him was off. "Are you alright? Did something happen?" He sighed and ran his fingers through her hair.

"It's nothing. I have had a long day." He replied. "But I am happy just seeing you." Brittany smiled and let him when he pulled her in again. Puck pushed her down towards a small pile of hay and Brittany fell backwards onto it. Puck hesitated for a moment, standing above her while she opened her arms to invite him on top. This was exactly how his dreams started. He placed his left hand on his right arm and discretely pinched hard. Pain shot up his arm. It wasn't a dream and Brittany was not going to change into Quinn. With a lopsided smile, he flopped down on top of her.

Santana placed her hand on the open door and slowly crept in. She could hear the rustling of hay and see Puck's back. Santana silently walked behind the beams that held the stable up. Her eyes watered when she walked nearer and recognized the blond hair strewn across the pile. _All this time..._She thought to herself. _I was a fool. Brittany is not a monster like me. _Every fiber in her body told her she should turn around and walk away, but she couldn't. She watched as Brittany kissed Puck.

His hands were rough and frantic. Brittany had kissed him before but today was different. He moved with a desperation and kissed her too hard. His eyes were shut tightly, as if he was blocking out a different thought. Brittany closed her eyes. Once she did, she pretended that his movements were slower, that his hands were soft, like they had done not a hard day's labor. His lips, chapped and scratchy, melted into smooth supple ones. Before she could stop herself, she imagined someone entirely different. The minute she realized who she was putting in Puck's place, she gasped and broke the kiss. Puck's hand was gently nudging her dress upwards.

"Stop." She pleaded and he did. His eyes shot open and for a minute, it seemed like he didn't recognize Brittany. He too had been imagining someone different and when he realized who he was with, his removed his hands.

From the shadows, Santana turned to leave. But when she heard Brittany whisper "Stop", so did she, as if Brittany spoke directly to her. She turned around and watched as Brittany placed her hand on Puck's chest to put distance between them.

"This isn't right." She said.

"Why?" Puck asked. Did Brittany know? She had to have known he was thinking of another.

"Because..." Brittany's mind raced. _I'm in love with another. Oh God, dear God, I will never, ever get over her..._ She spoke to disrupt her thoughts from finishing. "This isn't..." Her eyes watered and she brought her palms up to her eyes to press the tears back.

"Brittany?" Puck asked, cupping her cheek.

"It's all wrong...I can't..." She cried.

"It's my fault." Puck said, brushing her hair back.

"No, no, it's no fault of yours." She said, sniffing and composing herself. "I do like you, Puck. You've been such a good friend..."

"Yet you are crying." He pointed out. He sat back at the edge of the pile. Brittany shook her head.

"It isn't you, I assure you." She replied. "This just isn't right. I..." She thought about Santana smiling at her and how it made every nerve in her body tingle. She thought about their birthday nights, how they would hold pinkies and give each other gifts. Santana would treat her as an equal and it set her chest ablaze. She looked at Puck who searched her eyes for answers and in the shadows, Santana waited with baited breath for Brittany to continue.

"What is it?" Puck asked.

"Remember how you told me that you weren't sure of your feelings towards me? That you had developed feelings for another?" Brittany reminded. Puck looked down, ashamed. "It's not because of that. It's..." She inhaled. "I might be the same way." Puck looked up, shocked. He would've been lying if he said the revelation didn't hurt his pride a little. He thought Brittany had been committed to him alone.

"Who?" He asked.

"You did not reveal the name of yours and I shall not reveal mine." Brittany said, half teasing in an effort to lighten the mood. Puck scratched his head sheepishly.

"Fair enough." He said. He felt saddened by Brittany's rejection but relieved as well that she felt the same way that he did. "I hope this doesn't damage our friendship."

"Of course not!" Brittany laughed. Puck stood up and dusted himself off. He felt lighter and even though it did nothing to solve his dilemma with Quinn, at least he wasn't lying to a girl he truly cared about. "You'll still visit, won't you?"

"You have my word." Puck replied. "Though I'll admit, not as often. There are plenty of ladies back home that require my attention." He winked at her and she smiled at him. He grinned back at her and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"You go on ahead." Brittany said. Puck nodded.

"I wasn't lying. I care for you more than I have cared for anyone else." He said before trudging off. Brittany heaved a sigh and tucked her hair behind her ear. She sat in the pile of hay for a little while with her arms circled around her knees. Turning down Puck hadn't solved her real problem. She was still in love with Santana.

Santana could hardly hear anything outside the deafening pulse of blood rushing to her ears. What little hope lingered after she witnessed Puck and Brittany's initial actions flamed to life within her. Before reason could quell it, she stepped from the shadows.

"Brittany..." She said. As soft as her voice was, Brittany jumped and her eyes flew wide.

"Miss!" She exclaimed scrambling to her feet. Had her thoughts been so loud that they summoned her former Mistress there? Her face flushed deep red and she could not meet Santana's eyes. Santana took a step towards her. Her blood raced through her veins and she felt as though she could faint at any second. If she had taken just a moment to think, she would've turned around and walked away but her thoughts were overwhelmed with the fact that Brittany had turned down Puck for someone else. Even if her chances were one in a million, she would not have backed down right then.

"Hello." She said, nodding her head. _Words, Santana!_ She yelled at herself. "I need to speak with you."

"Anything, Miss." Brittany said too quickly. She fought her body's natural instinct to run in terror. She tried desperately not to stare at the lips that she fantasized about not moments ago. Santana took a deep breath and began the hardest speech she would ever have to give. Santana looked back towards the door to the stable.

"I noticed Puck leaving." She said. "I never knew you were lovers."

"Hardly, Miss." Brittany said, blushing. "I was never in love with him. In fact, I refused him today. He is a good friend, Miss, and little more than that." _Love_. Santana laughed aloud a little when she heard the word.

"Love is such a luxury." She said sadly. "Brittany, I envy you."

"Envy me, Miss? Surely-"

"I am the daughter of a Duke, Brittany. It is expected of me to marry the Prince, or at the very least, a man of equal standing as my father. But I won't marry him because I love him." Santana cast her eyes downward. "The very best I can hope for is that one day, my feelings for my husband grow into love. It is what my mother did. She did not love my father when she married him, but I would like to think that she does now, even if she doesn't show it." Santana paced around Brittany but Brittany stood frozen in place.

"I knew all of this from a very young age." Santana continued. "I knew that when I grew up, it was possible that a man whom I hardly knew would come to my door and ask my father for my hand in marriage. And if the pairing was suitable, my father would agree. And so I never entertained the notion of love, I knew it would only hurt me." She turned her head toward Brittany and the blond girl gasped when she saw Santana's eyes filled to the brim with tears.

"I was right." Santana whispered. "Because..." Her eyes locked with Brittany's. "Because when you left, I knew I had been right all along. I've spent countless nights dreaming of you, every waking second wondering how you were, what you were doing. When I saw you standing in Quinn's room after I had all but given up any hope of seeing you again, it was as if God was laughing at me. Here you were, standing but a few feet away and you were not mine. Seeing you tend to Quinn, it made me burn with anger and sadness. I would've given up anything for you to be at my side again. I gave up..." She began to say _the crown_ but she stopped. Brittany could not know the sacrifice she made. "I gave up the music box all those years ago and I would do it again. Do you understand?" Brittany began to but she shook her head for fear that she might've been wrong. Santana swallowed and looked at the faded, chipped paint on the wall, as if the shabby interior could give her the strength to go on. But she had to find her own courage.

"I'm a noble, you're a peasant and we're both women. In the eyes of the church and society, I should be condemned but I..." Her voice cracked and Brittany flinched as if at any second this delicate, unfolding fantasy could shatter. Her blue eyes sparkled with her own unshed tears as Santana took in a shaky breath. "I love you." Brittany's heart stopped when she heard those words. It had been the words she'd dreamed of spoken by the woman she dreamed of. If the Lord had struck her down at that second, she would've left the world content. But time went on and Santana kept going.

"I love you." She repeated and it was like a thunderbolt to Brittany. Her heart started again and she shivered upon hearing it. "To hell with Prince Finn, or any other noble, I've loved you all along and I just never knew it. I realized it in your absence, that I cannot live without you by my side and I cannot bear to be with you feeling as I do." She broke down into open sobs and Brittany couldn't stop herself from crying silently. But the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile.

"Santana..."

"I prayed to God every day that you would love me back." She whispered as she futilely wiped the tears away. "You have me, Brittany. So I beg you, either cast me away as you did with Puck or grab hold of me and never let go."

A second passed and neither of them dared to breath. Santana trembled in place, feeling as though she would either faint or flee at the drop of a pin. Brittany stood in place and Santana's words echoed in her head as loudly as if she had screamed them in an empty ballroom. Then Brittany grabbed both of Santana's hands, startling them both by her sudden movement.

God had answered both of their prayers. She couldn't stand the thought of losing her, not now. She pulled her close and embraced her, burying her face into Santana's shoulder. Santana's heart pounded in tandem with Brittany's as she held her servant tightly. She heard Brittany mumble words into her shoulder.

"Brittany?" She said. Brittany repeated what she had said just a bit clearer and when Santana heard it, she let out a soft sob and pressed the palm of her left hand into the damp skin of Brittany's neck.

_"I am yours."_


	14. Part 1: To Love

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but only because the next chapter will be huge to mark the end of the first act.**

* * *

_The Duchess roamed the halls, gliding across the floor like some malevolent ghost. Her half lidded eyes carefully moved from side to side, taking note of all the servants around her. They were beneath her, not worthy of any acknowledgement. Her hatred for the underprivileged ran deep but she did not dwell on why. She had only one goal now; groom Santana as her mother groomed her. She married well above her standing and if she had her way Santana would marry a king._

_ She walked past the library, only to stop and turn around. A seven year old Santana sat in her father's large chair with a small book in her hands, a children's book. Her mother frowned disapprovingly and walked over. She snatched the book out of Santana's hands and the little girl cried out in protest, her arms reaching towards it._

_ "I wasn't finished!" She whined. The Duchess looked at the cover and her lips turned upward in a sneer._

_ "Who bought this for you?" She demanded. "You know you are not allowed to read such drivel." It was a book about a dashing young prince marrying well below his class. It was a fairy tale that most peasants told their children to give hope and meaning to their otherwise useless lives. It spoke of true love transcending classes, but the Duchess knew better than that._

_ "Papa bought it for me." Santana admitted. "I like those books, mother."_

_ "I will have a word with your father. I don't want you getting any ideas about all this 'love' nonsense."_

_ "But mother..." Santana argued. "It does exist, doesn't it?"  
"Whether it exists or not, it is not your concern. Your concern is attending Prince Finn's seventh birthday. That is your goal, do you understand?"_

_ "But I don't like him, mother, his nose always runs and he smells badly."_

_ "These stories tell tales of marrying a prince. You actually have the opportunity." Her mother snapped. She gripped the book so hard that the paper started to crumple. Santana cried out again upon hearing it._

_ "What if I don't want to marry a prince? What if I find someone I love like the prince did in the book?" Her mother's hand lashed out and caught Santana across the face. Santana screamed in pain and stared back at her mother. Her mother's eyes glistened with tears of anger and rage. Santana was too young to see it then, but there was also immense sadness in those eyes. She hopped off the chair and ran away, wailing. The Duchess looked down at her hands, frozen in place. She'd never hit Santana before and it brought back so many childhood memories of her own mother. Santana ran away in tears, wailing at the top of her little lungs._

_ The Duchess looked at the book in her other hand, fairy tales, ones that should never have been put into writing. She glanced at the fire place, roaring with hunger for flimsy, flammable material just like the kind a book was made of. Without a second thought, she cast the book into the flames and watched as it greedily consumed each page until there was nothing left. Love, she thought and knew, did not exist for their kind. And if it did, she had yet to see it flourish before her eyes_.

* * *

Puck trudged back up to the main road. When he got there, he leaned against the large wheel of the carriage and sighed. He looked up at the blinding sun, the blue sky and the small, white dots of clouds. The sun bore down on him and he sat down in the shade. He'd done the right thing, walking away. Perhaps now the dreams would stop plaguing him.

Beads of sweat rolled, gathering momentum down the side of his face. It was unbearably hot out there and he looked towards the barn, wondering if Brittany was still inside. The sound of a door opening made him look towards the house. Puck's eyes widened as Quinn Fabray walked outside. She started when he stood up, and then regarded him with a confused look.

"Where's Brittany?" Quinn asked. Puck wanted to speak but his mouth felt sewn shut. He nodded his head towards the barn. Quinn looked at it and then back at Puck. "Why are you not with her?" Puck smiled a little and his body loosened at the thought of Brittany turning him down.

"As I have said before, Miss Quinn, we are friends." Quinn balked.

"I thought that was a ruse." She said.

"No Miss." Puck gently lowered himself until he was back in a sitting position. He rested his arm on his knee casually. "We are friends, as I've said." Quinn frowned and looked back at the barn. There was no movement from inside and she wondered if Santana had caught up with Brittany. Puck watched Quinn as she gazed intently to the left. His eyes wandered from her face down her body and finally to her ankle.

"How is it, Miss?" He asked, pointing lazily to her feet. Quinn snapped out of her trance and looked to where Puck was gesturing.

"I beg your pardon?" She asked.

"Your ankle." He clarified. Quinn wiggled her foot around a bit and set it down.

"It has healed, thank you."

"Good." Puck sighed in relief. "I wouldn't want anything happening to you." Quinn turned her attention to the stable boy. He looked up and their eyes met and Quinn knew Santana had been right. No man looked at a woman the way he looked at her unless he was in love. She looked away quickly. From their last encounter, she inferred that he was at least attracted to her. But the look in his eyes now was not the look in his eyes then. His gaze was soft, not full of awe and it unsettled Quinn far more than if he had simply been leering.

"Well." Quinn said, clearing her throat. "If you simply came here to visit a friend, then it's no further business of mine." She turned on her heel and walked back inside. Puck folded his head into his arms. He had made no effort to hide his affections. He wished that Quinn had rejected and berated him, to make it clear that he needed to find someone of his own class. But rather than mock him for his ill-placed ardor, she chose to ignore it entirely. And that did not make Puck's life any easier.

Brittany was the first to pull away though the grip that Santana had on her was hard to break free of and Brittany wasn't sure why she wanted to anyway. But she backed up and wiped her tears, laughing a little at her sorry state. Santana did the same, breaking out into a bashful smile and looking away. For a long time, that was all they did. They did not know how to proceed now that their feelings were out in the open and mutual. Santana felt like her heart was going to explode from the happiness. Brittany wanted to dance.

"I'm not dreaming, am I?" Santana asked. Brittany laughed, brightly. "I've dreamt of this moment for so long. If it is, I do not want to wake up from it." Brittany reached over and touched Santana's hand for a moment before pinching it. Santana yelped a little at the pain. Brittany then took her hand and wrapped hers in it.

"It isn't a dream." She reassured. "And if you have any doubts, I would be happy to say it again."

"Say it again." Santana ordered quickly. Brittany blushed and looked down at their interlocked hands. She closed her eyes and imagined Santana confessing her love over again and the warmth spread from her toes to her head. The words bubbled from within her chest and spilled out of her mouth.

"I am yours." She repeated. Santana broke out into a grin and held her hand tightly. She wished they could stay like that forever. But Brittany, ever thinking of Santana's status, was the one who brought them back to reality.

"What will we do?" She asked.

"Do with what?" Santana replied, tilting her head one way. Brittany smoothed her dress and bit her lip.

"I am yours, Santana." Chills ran up the noblewoman's spine. "But we cannot be so open when you return to being Santana Lopez, daughter of the Duke and I return to being Miss Quinn's servant." Santana's smile dropped and her eyes flitted down. She hadn't thought so far in the future. Confessing to Brittany was about as far as her mind would plan. She didn't think that Brittany would return her feelings and she dared not hope for it. But now that her prayers had come true, they had to deal with how to hide it.

For a moment, she looked at Brittany and wished Brittany had been born male. But that few seconds passed. It would've been easier, yes, if Brittany had been a servant boy but there was no way they would've found each other. Brittany wouldn't have been her personal servant and they wouldn't have fallen in love. What made Santana fall in love with her was the fact that she was a woman and she would not exchange that for a life of ease.

"I don't know." Santana answered. "We'll have to act natural, like..." Her throat felt dry and she croaked out the next words. "Like none of this happened." She looked up into Brittany's eyes. She half expected to see doubt and sadness but all she saw was the crystal blue glint of encouragement. "You are not angry?"

"I understand." Brittany said, squeezing Santana's hand firmly. "I am just...glad...that you love me." They stared at their hands for a minute longer before Santana got up and hoisted Brittany with her. They'd been gone too long, people would start looking for them. Santana heaved a sigh and looked around the dingy barn, trying to memorize everything about the moment.

"We will have time together alone, I promise." Santana said.

"If not, I can sneak off during the night and visit." Brittany teased. Santana laughed lightly but it did not hide the despondency in her demeanor. Why did they have to go back to pretending when they had come so far?

"I want to be able to tell you that I love you whenever I want." Santana bemoaned. Brittany bit her lip. She wanted it too but the positions they were in, the society they grew up with did not look favorably upon them.

"What if we had some sort of code?" Brittany asked, coming up with an idea. Santana waited for her to continue. "Every time I touch my bracelet," she touched the silver charm to demonstrate. "It means that 'I love you'?" Santana looked at Brittany's fingers gently scraping over the links of metal. It wasn't ideal, it wouldn't be the same as actually saying it and actually getting to hold Brittany's hand. But it was the best they could do.

They walked separately back, first Santana and then Brittany. Santana walked into Quinn's room where she waited on the bed, reading a book. When Santana walked in and quietly closed the door, Quinn set it down on her desk and look towards Santana expectantly. She wasn't sure what Santana was going to say, she wasn't sure what she saw or did but she waited for some sort of explanation. When Santana said nothing, Quinn started the conversation.

"Do we still have a deal?" She asked.

"Yes." Santana replied simply. Quinn studied Santana carefully. She had left the room so distressed, yet she returned as if she'd simply left to fetch something from her carriage.

"What did you find?" She asked. Santana smiled cryptically and did not reply. Her smugness irritated Quinn. Santana was at her mercy, she hadn't called off the deal and yet Quinn felt like she was somehow losing. She decided to remind Santana of the ultimate goal, just to see if she could crush her spirit a little.

"Well, if we still have a deal, I suppose it's fair to inform you that we, meaning your family and mine, are to attend a dinner party held at the palace in the very near future. The King himself is hosting for all of his advisors." Quinn smirked. "What better way to tell the Prince you are no longer interested in him."

"Fine." Santana replied nonchalantly. Quinn scowled instantly. Santana was no longer acting like it was an important matter. What had changed? Just earlier, Santana was scrambling to blackmail her way out of their deal. Quinn worried that perhaps Santana had uncovered something actually damaging. Perhaps Brittany had seen something and told Santana about it. Her sudden lack of interest gnawed at the Marquess's daughter and she walked right up to Santana menacingly.

"Do you plan to hit me?" Santana asked coolly.

"I have a mind to wipe that smile off your face." Quinn hissed.

"And you consider my actions unladylike." Santana laughed. Just as Quinn opened her mouth to yell, Brittany walked back into the room. Seeing another vessel to vent on, she turned on her heel and grabbed Brittany's sleeve.

"And where were you?" Quinn demanded. Brittany's frightened gaze darted from Quinn to Santana. In an instant, Santana jumped to her feet.

"Don't you dare touch her!" Santana yelled, losing control of her collected self. Quinn dragged Brittany and threw her in front.

"I will do whatever I want. Don't forget for a second that she is _my_ servant, not yours." Quinn snapped. Santana clenched her teeth. She was prepared to fight Quinn as viciously as she fought the Count. Brittany standing between them was the only thing stopping the two girls from tearing at each other's hair. But as the tension grew, Brittany felt she wouldn't be enough to stop them. She turned around and caught Santana's eyes, making it very obvious when she reached down and touched the silver bracelet around her wrist. Quinn did not know what it meant, she thought it might've been a nervous reaction. But the action caused Santana's anger to dissipate. Even though she was still unhappy, she dropped her guard and relaxed as much as she could.

"It isn't worth it." Santana muttered.

"No, no she isn't." Quinn replied, eyeing Brittany angrily. Santana bristled when she heard those words but she didn't say or do anything. Instead, she focused her glare on Quinn's chestnut dresser as tears of rage dotted the corners of her eyes. She felt powerless to do anything, even defend the girl she loved.

* * *

_The Duchess walked calmly out of the library as if nothing had happened, as if a screaming girl hadn't run out of the room just seconds before. The instant she stepped outside, she saw her husband exit the room. His dark eyes scanned the hall and fell on his wife, standing away, separated by the railing and wide space that opened to the dining area below. He took great strides and the Duchess did not move from her place. She had no intention of running._

_ "What is Santana crying about?" He said in a low booming voice. He only ever got angry when it came to Santana. Their northern neighbors could tear across his land and he would offer them treaties of peace. But if they dare make his daughter cry, he would wring their necks with one hand._

_ "I simply told her the truth."_

_ "She ran in screaming about her book! What did you do?"_

_ "I disposed of garbage as it should be." She explained. The Duke let out a frustrated sigh and ran his fingers through his peppered hair. His wife had always been difficult. "We've been through this, you know my opinion on the matter." She said through half hooded eyes._

_ "She's a child. Let her enjoy her fantasy while she can." The Duke pleaded. "We all know what is expected of her."_

_ "Better now than later." The Duchess replied. "I don't want her to grow up with any preconceived notions of love. Better I hurt her now than she hurt herself later." The Duke's eyes glimmered with a sudden understanding. His hands dropped to his side and his entire body deflated._

_ "You will never forgive me for that, will you?" He asked._

_ "I don't know what you mean." The Duchess replied. But she began walking away as the conversation had taken a turn in a direction she did not want to go. The Duke reached out and grabbed her arm. She stared caustically down at his rough hands, as if her gaze alone could vaporize his grip._

_ "I was a boy. I was a foolish, reckless boy." He said. But she'd heard it a thousand times and it did nothing to assuage her lingering hurt._

_ "It doesn't matter. I'm far better off now." She replied, pulling her arm away. She walked away quickly so that he did not see the way her eyes glazed over with distant memories. The Duke did not try again. He watched his wife walk away and disappear down the steps, leaving him to reflect on the stupidity of his youth._

* * *

Even when it was time for Santana to go home, the tension still lingered between them. For the most part, they sat far apart in silence. Quinn practiced her penmanship, which she rarely did while Santana picked up a book and started reading. Brittany's hand never left the silver bracelet and Santana glanced over every now and then. It brought her some measure of comfort despite Quinn's presence. She too never took her hand away from the bracelet for too long. For the words they could not speak, they showed in actions a hundred times that day.

Despite being there with Quinn, Santana was reluctant to leave. Who knew how long it would be before she got to visit again? With a forlorn glance up at Brittany's room, she ducked into the carriage followed by the resounding slam of the door. She pressed her hand against the window and caught a glimpse of silver flashing in the dark of the corner room.

Santana sat back down. Quinn's words resonated in her head now that it was thinking properly again. She had no more time. In less than a week, they would all be gathered at the King's palace. Quinn would be there, watching and waiting for her to sabotage her own chances of getting the crown. She had to do it subtly, so as not to bring harm to her family. Her mind swam with the thought of the consequences of her action. But as her hand moved instinctively to her bracelet, she knew it had to be done. Only then could she be free to love Brittany.

Her father waited for her outside. When the carriage arrived, he helped her out. Her face was fallen and troubled. It did not escape the Duke's notice.

"Don't worry." Her father reassured, mistaking what her anxiety was about. "We will see them soon enough." Santana didn't bother smiling at her father. As happy as she was about Brittany's confession, she could not see an easy way out of the predicament Quinn put her in. There stood a good chance she would hurt her family but if she did not, she might not see Brittany ever again. She looked up at her father who regarded her with a warm smile. It eased her mind a little.

"Father." She said quietly. "May I ask you something?"

"Any thing my princess." The word stung even though it was meant affectionately. Her father ushered her inside just as the bugs started flying about them, attracted by the sweat on their skin.

"Will you promise not to be cross?"

"Have you snuck into my tobacco supply?" The Duke teased.

"No father." Despite the worry in her mind, her father never failed to make her smile. His moustache quivered with unreleased laughter and his eyes were warm, like Santana always remembered. "If...if I didn't marry the Prince, would you still love me?" The Duke's smile dropped. He knew that downcast look, especially on his daughter.

"Who is the young lad that I must now duel for my daughter's affections?" He said in mock seriousness.

"What?" Santana gasped. "No! Father, there isn't anyone!" The Duke waggled his thick eyebrows, stifling another bout of laughter. He could tell when his daughter was lying. She would not ask this of him if there wasn't at least _someone_ in mind. Rather than press the matter, he decided to play along.

"My princess, you must understand one thing. I am your father, I only think of your interests." He said. "I wish only to see you happy and well. Yes, marrying the prince would secure your well-being and he is the only one I can think of who is worthy of your hand. But if you are happy, there is truly little more that I ask for."

"What about mother?" Santana asked.

"She shows her affections differently. But I believe her goal for you is the same. We both wish to see you live your life comfortably and happily." He reassured. Santana scoffed. That did not sound like her mother at all. But she appreciated what her father said and took comfort in the fact that he was not too vested in having royal grandchildren.

"Thank you, father." Santana said, bowing respectfully. Her father smiled at her again before she ran off to her room. His eyes sparkled as he watched his grown daughter march up the stairs with a heart, no doubt, heavy with affection for someone other than him. _How fast they grow,_ he thought to himself. He heaved a sigh. He wasn't too upset about Santana revealing that she was not as interested in the Prince as her mother made it seem. As fond as he was of the King, the Prince was none too bright. Santana was far more brilliant and would've wound up running the country had they married. He looked out glass doors. Rumors of rebellion, of civil unrest would not make ruling the country an easy task. A storm was brewing in the ranks of the peasants and unless the King did something soon, the storm would only swell to unmanageable proportions. And he did not want his daughter stuck in the middle of it.

* * *

_The Duchess made her way down to her private study. It was the first time she'd thought about the incident in years. She'd accepted her lot in life and convinced herself for a little less than a decade that she was better off._

_ But even as she thought that, she opened her desk and removed a small leather pouch. The pouch stood out in its simplicity and ordinary appearance. In the room filled with silver and gold, porcelain and expensive furniture, the leather pouch seemed more rubbish than anything else. The Duchess's slender fingers dipped inside, retrieving an equally plain wooden locket. Two letters were carved into the wood on the front, interweaving and tangled in each other so that you could not tell if they were meant to be one letter or separate. With a careful and small gesture, the Duchess cracked open the locket. Inside, a few blond strands of hair remained, nestled into the wooden curve against purple velvet. The Duchess dared not touch the hair, for fear that it may fall out and disappear with any sudden gust of wind. She closed it quickly and ran her fingers over the smooth worn letters._

* * *

Santana had been asleep for a few hours when she heard something hitting her window. She awoke with a start and looked around, trying to find the source of the noise. Another shower of small pebbles clinked against the glass and she cautiously made her way over to the window. Everyone had to be asleep by now. She looked down and saw a tale pale figure with long blond hair gathering another handful of pebbles to throw. Her heart skipped several beats and she flung the window open.

"Brittany!" She hissed in the dark. Brittany grinned and waved. Santana looked around. "Just a moment, I'll be right down." She turned on her feet and had there not been the need to stay quiet, she would've slammed open the door and bolted down the stairs. But she needed to be subtle so that her parents would not find out the identity of her "young lad."

The minute she got out of the house without alerting anyone she threw herself into Brittany's embrace. Brittany choked down a yelp as she caught her Mistress in the air.

"What are you doing here?" Santana asked, pulling away. Brittany put a finger to her lips and pointed a little ways down. Santana saw where she pointed and smiled. "To the garden then." She said. This time, they held hands instead of pinkies as they walked to their usual benches. When they sat down, Santana asked again.

"It is the middle of the night, how did you even get here?"

"Quinn sleeps like the dead." Brittany giggled. "It wasn't particularly hard to sneak out the door of her room."

"Did you walk?" Santana demanded. Brittany smiled shyly. She pointed back towards the forest and Santana saw the silhouette of a horse.

"I'll return him before anyone notices." Brittany said mischievously.

"You could be punished!" Santana gasped indigently.

"I couldn't stay away." Brittany said. "We had so little time together. We've always had so little time together. We were always Mistress and servant. Never like this." She ran the tips of her fingers over the top of Santana's hand. Santana smiled. As worried as she was about Brittany getting into trouble, she was glad that Brittany visited, even as late as she did.

"We were together early today." Santana pointed out. Brittany grinned sheepishly.

"It wasn't enough." Brittany replied and both of them knew it to be the truth. Santana smiled so wide it hurt her cheeks. Brittany was back, they were sitting in the garden again as they'd always done. It was almost as if things were back to normal. They revelled in a comfortable silence. Neither had to say anything for them to feel the intimacy of the moment. But Brittany was the first to break the silence.

"When did you know?" She asked. "That you loved me?" Santana turned to her, slightly startled by the question.

"I..." She stammered. "I don't know. For a very long time, I think. I knew you were special the first time I saw you. I would've given up a hundred music boxes for you." Brittany's eyes flashed.

"I think I remember the music box you are talking about!" She exclaimed. "It caught my eye too, as I..." She stopped talking, remembering why her father had brought her there in the first place. Sensing the conversation had taken a turn for the worse, Santana went on.

"I think I fell for you the day we went to rescue your sister. You called me 'beautiful' and I kept thinking to myself 'that's what you are.'" Santana said. Brittany's gaze trailed slowly up. She looked at Santana's hand enclosed in her own, followed the outline of her nightgown to where her other hand gripped her shoulder nervously and then trailed up to her jawline and fell on the dark blush creeping up Santana's cheek. Santana glanced at Brittany. She had never felt so nervous before.

"You know I-" Santana started to say "_I've kissed you before"_ but did not finish. Brittany leaned over and kissed her. Santana's whole world lit up, brighter than a summer's day. Brittany placed one hand on Santana's knee and with the other, pulled her closer, wrapping her arm around her waist. Stars burst behind their eyes and the rest of the world drowned out. For Brittany, it wiped away any memory she had of kissing before. And for Santana, who had never been kissed before, it opened her up to an experience that she only wanted to share with Brittany.

From the balcony of the Lopez estate, the Duchess watched the two in stoic silence. She knew love. And she knew it did not exist for their kind.


	15. Part 1: Changes, Lies and a Letter

_ The Duke marched dejectedly back into his chamber. Santana sat on the bed with a servant wiping her tears away. When she saw him, she leaped off the bed and ran into his arms. He scooped her tiny figure up and with a wave of the hand, dismissing the servant. The servant bowed respectfully before exiting the room._

_ "Did you yell at mother?" She asked. The Duke smiled and walked a few feet, setting her down on the satin sheets. He groaned when he sat down and he made Santana's section lift up when he plopped next to her. She laughed and the Duke placed a caring hand on her shoulder._

_ "I did not. Gentlemen do not yell at women." He said._

_ "But she took away my book!" Santana insisted. He patted her head affectionately._

_ "I will buy you another one, I promise." His words made her grin and grab his hand. She stood on the bed and bounced excitedly. When she tired of it, she sat back down, still holding his big hand._

_ "Will you tell me a story, then, Papa?" She pleaded with her small, doe-brown eyes. He laughed._

_ "I am not a very good storyteller, I'm afraid. Your nanny is quite good, why don't you run to her and ask her to tell you a story?"_

_ "But I want you to tell me a story." Santana whined. She bounced up and down impatiently. The Duke thought back to his conversation with the Duchess just moments ago. He thought about their story._

_ "Very well." He conceded. Santana sat still, her smile wide in anticipation._

_ "Does it involve a prince?" She asked._

_ "No, but it involves a woman almost as beautiful as you." He winked, causing Santana to giggle._

_ "Tell me!" Santana begged. The Duke's smile vanished as his thoughts wound back in time._

_ "Well, a very long time ago, there lived a daughter of an Earl. She was the most beautiful woman in the entire country. She had long brown hair as soft and as luminous as silk. When she smiled, the sun dimmed in defeat. Her eyes were more beautiful than the rarest and most expensive gems. Men tripped over themselves in the streets to get a good look at her. Counts proposed on an almost daily basis but she turned them all down."_

_ "Why?" Santana interjected._

_ "I'm getting to that, Princess." The Duke shushed her and she clasped a hand over her mouth. "She turned them all down because she was in love. She was in love with a young Baron. He was fairly common in appearance, with flaxen hair and blue eyes that sparkled like emeralds in the sun. They met by chance one day and fell in love at first sight. The Lady couldn't imagine tearing herself away and neither could the young man."_

"_Did they get married?" Santana blurted. The Duke looked down at his hands._

"_He wasn't a commoner, but he was below them in rank. That greatly displeased the Lady's mother. If there was one thing the women in the Lady's family had in common, it was their desire to gain more power with every generation. Her mother forbade her to see him. But they snuck out at night to see each other, wrote letters delivered by companions and servants in secret and planned one day to elope._

_ The Lady's mother, the Countess, figured it out very quickly. She never said anything directly to the Lady. Instead, she formulated an evil plan. Her plan involved the son of a highly regarded and well respected Marquess. This young Lord was born and raised on the pain of others. He was violent and ill-tempered and his father had spent a great amount of time trying to marry him off in hopes that a wife would calm him down. But he turned all of them away and delighted in making them cry when he did so. The Marquess had all but given up hope when the Countess approached him." The Duke paused and looked at Santana, wondering if she had suspected anything. But Santana simply stared at him, transfixed by his story and so he went on._

_ "The Countess brought the Marquess's son back with her. The Countess's daughter was just sneaking off to meet with her young lover when they arrived. The Lady did not see her mother or the young man she brought with him but the Countess pointed her daughter out. Well, the young Lord wasn't too pleased but she turned around for a brief instant and when he caught a glimpse of her face, he, like so many other men before him, fell madly in love. He followed her into the woods where she jumped into the arms of her Baron. He saw her up close and it only served to cement her place in his heart. But she was in love with another, and so he formulated and evil plot to get rid of his rival._

_ He found two of his friends and ambushed the poor young Baron in the alley one night. The young Baron fought valiantly, defying any demand from the Lord to break his relationship with the Lady. His love was too strong to be beaten out of him." The door opened slightly and the Duchess walked in. The Duke's mouth went dry as she entered and sat down in front of her dresser._

_ "Go on, papa!" Santana urged. The Duke swallowed and looked over at his wife who sat and stared stoically at her reflection._

_ "J-Just as the Lord was prepared to deliver the final blow, the Lady showed up. It was that night that the Lady and the Baron were to run away and elope together. When the wicked Lord saw the Lady, his resolve left him. He and his two friends fled and the Lord understood that the Lady would never love him as she loved the Baron. So he left in the cover of darkness and the Lady and Baron were reunited."_

_ "Did they get married?" Santana asked. The Duke did not take his eyes off of the Duchess._

_ "Yes." He said simply. "And they lived together in happiness for the rest of their years." Santana grinned and giggled at the ending. She hopped off the bed._

_ "I liked the story, papa!" She said. Then, as all children do when they become bored, she left the room, skipping the entire way. The Duke watched the door close, afraid to look at his wife._

_ "You've woven quite a happy story." The Duchess deadpanned. The Duke sighed and placed his hands on his knees. "But that's not quite how I remember the story ending. If I recall correctly, the young Baron died that night."_

_ "Why did you accept my proposal?" The Duke asked. "You loved him, why marry me after that?" The Duchess did not move. She simply stared at the woman in the mirror, a woman who had changed so much since that day and whom she hardly recognized._

_ "Do you love me?" She asked._

_ "I love you now and I will always love you. That will never change." The Duke replied. The Duchess smirked, though it was an hollow gesture, devoid of any real mirth._

_ "Good. I want you to continue loving me. That way you may know what it feels like to love someone and never have them be able to return that love."_

* * *

_Brittany was the first to break the kiss. They stared at each other and Brittany's cheeks soon matched the same dark tone of crimson on Santana's cheek. In the white, pale moonlight, Santana could see very clearly she was red from her ears down to her collarbone. Neither of them dared to breath. It took a minute for their minds to catch up to what their bodies had known was the right thing to do. Once Brittany realized that she had kissed her former Mistress, she jumped to her feet._

"_I-I have to return." She stammered. Santana just nodded, finding that she'd forgotten how to move her body or mouth. Brittany bowed low and abruptly stood off. Santana watched her dumbly as she practically skipped back to the horse and in one jump, hopped on. She cast one more glance back at the catatonic noblewoman, smiling sweetly at her before riding off into the distance. When she was out of sight, Santana regained mobility and stood up. She brought her fingers to her lips. _

"ATTENTION!" Santana jumped in her seat when her French instructor brought his willow switch down on her book, making a loud cracking noise. She looked up at him, having been daydreaming the past few minutes. He started lecturing her in French but a few seconds later, she started drifting off again. She soon lost herself in her thoughts about the sudden kiss, how quickly it ended and how it left room for so much more. Santana had not been able to focus correctly all day. It adversely affected all of her lessons. She could not believe how lucky she was to have Brittany love her back. When Quinn told her about Puck, she was ready to give up all hope.

She giggled, much to the displeasure of her instructor. She wasn't listening at all. He threw up his hands in defeat. He could not leave, the Duke would throw him out. So he continued to teach to a noblewoman who paid about as much attention as one of the marble statues in the room.

When her lesson was finished, Santana walked out, ignoring when she passed by her mother. Her mother cast her an unamused look. Her French instructor marched up to the Duchess, dabbing at his forehead. His face was red with frustration.

"Please forgive me, Your Grace, if I speak too freely. The Lady Santana has not been attentive at all this lesson."

"I know." The Duchess replied coldly. "You'll have to excuse her for now."

"Perhaps, Your Grace, if you speak with her..." The French instructor suggested.

"I intend to." She said. "You are dismissed." The instructor bowed respectfully and gathered his things. The Duchess waved a servant over who hastily took a spot by her side. "If any of the other instructors arrive, inform them that all the lessons for today are canceled. She won't learn anything, not in her state." The servant replied with a quick "Yes, Your Grace" and hurried off to meet Santana's music instructor. The Duchess pursed her lips. This would not do at all.

The Duke was in his chambers, getting dressed by his servants when the Duchess marched in. He blinked in surprise by her sudden appearance. She usually disappeared for the better half of the day.

"You must speak with your daughter." The Duchess commanded. The Duke waved his hand and the servants all disappeared, closing the door behind him. "She is ruining herself."

"What has she done?" The Duke asked. "I have not heard any outcry from downstairs so I presume she hasn't murdered anyone."

"This is no time for jest!" The Duchess snapped. "Your daughter is jeopardizing her chances with the Prince."

"How?" The Duke stepped off of the dressing platform and faced his wife.

"She is in love...in love with another." The Duchess snapped. The Duke blinked again in shock. And then he broke out into a smile. The Duchess curled her lip in disgust. "You are happy about it?"

"I assumed as much." The Duke replied. This time it was the Duchess's turn to look taken aback.

"You knew?" She hissed. "Then you must know that it is improper for her to..."

"Not who." The Duke cut in. "But she let on that perhaps her heart was not set on the Prince."

"Then you must speak with her. The good Lord knows that she won't listen to me. But she will listen to you." The Duchess said, taking a seat. The Duke sighed and folded his hands in his lap. He sat down next to his wife who regarded his proximity with disdain.

"Is it so terrible?" He asked. "Our daughter is in love. What can we do to stop it?"

"By arranging a marriage to the Prince!" The Duchess all but yelled. "I don't know why you haven't done so already, the King is more than eager to marry his son to us. He has all but told us so!" The Duchess stood up, finding it difficult to argue with her husband while sitting down. The Duke remained seated.

"But it isn't what Santana wants." The Duke argued.

"This isn't about what she wants, it's about what is good for her!" The Duchess countered. "I don't..." Her eyes flew open and she stared at her husband in disbelief and disgust. "No, I do understand. You are trying to atone for what you did to me."

"And what if I am?" The Duke yelled. The Duchess took a step back. Her husband rarely raised his voice and never to her. "What if I am trying to do what is right this time? My actions have haunted me ever since then, what if I want to do good? Every day when I wake up to see you by my side, I wish I hadn't done what I did. I wish I had let you two alone."

"No." The Duchess said quietly but firmly. "I won't allow Santana to sabotage herself, especially not so that you can feel some sort of atonement for what you did." She turned and stormed out of the room. The Duke gripped his hands so hard that his fingers left deep impressions in the skin.

* * *

Brittany rode her borrowed horse along the side of the road merrily. It was the first time she'd gone back to visit her family. When she started working for Quinn, the agreement was that Brittany could go back and visit her family every now and then. Quinn had just paid her a generous sum of money, enough to feed and cloth the family for months. She'd been surprised when Quinn handed her the heavy coin purse but Quinn simply smiled and said, "You are more help than you could ever know." Brittany was confused by the statement, she'd never been as attentive to Quinn as she had been to Santana and she made many more mistakes. But she did not argue with her Mistress and took the coin purse from her.

She imagined the looks on her mother and father's faces when she presented the money to them. They would be overjoyed, no doubt. Quinn let her ride her horse, a beautiful chestnut beast that Brittany had coincidentally "borrowed" the night she went to see Santana. It was a pleasant ride, the Thoroughbred was calm and trotted at an easy pace for Brittany, not that she had any problems with riding before. But it was good to be free of responsibilities for once. She informed Quinn that she would be gone for approximately three days and Quinn agreed. It was about half a day's worth to get to the town at her pace. But she was in no hurry. Everything was going right for once.

When she did arrive, her mother was outside. When she saw Brittany, she dropped the clothes in the washbin and hobbled over to embrace her daughter.

"Mother." Brittany greeted her with a warm smile and hug.

"My darling. Oh it's been ages." Her mother replied.

"Brittany!" Mary shouted from the second floor. She ducked back inside and Brittany could hear the loud patter of footsteps as he raced down the stairs. She burst out of the house and jumped into Brittany's arms. Soon the whole family, save for Nathan who was working at the smithy's, surrounded Brittany, each taking turns hugging her and kissing her.

"I've missed you all so much."

"What's it like?" Colin asked. "In that big mansion?"

"Very..." Brittany thought about it. "It's very lonesome. I'd much rather be here with all of you than stuck in that big house all by myself." Her mother grasped her hand lovingly.

"Well, come in, you must be tired after all that riding." She said. Brittany followed the whole family, with Colin explaining to her everything that had gone on since her departure.

Later that evening, Brittany gathered her mother and father together at the table. She was so excited to present to them her earnings that they weren't even properly seated when she brought the coin purse out and set it on the table with a loud jingle. She pushed it towards them.

"It should help out!" She said quickly. "She paid me generously and that's what I came back here for." Her father went pale and he stared at the coin purse in fear as if it was cursed. Brittany was confused by his reaction. She expected warm smiles, hugs, perhaps even tears. She did not expect them to be frightened.

"Father?"

"We don't want it." He said, pushing the coin purse away. "No, we can't, it's no right, not after..." He stood up and walked upstairs. Brittany watched him go, concerned and slightly hurt. Her mother walked around the table and picked up the coin purse. She handed it back to Brittany.

"I don't understand, why is father unhappy?"

"Because you are too good to us, to him. Selling you still haunts him to this day."  
"But I've forgiven him." Brittany replied.

"It doesn't matter, my darling. He hasn't forgiven himself and rightly so. You coming back, giving him money, it reminds him of that day. It wouldn't matter how little or how much you gave him, he would never take money from you." Brittany looked down at the at the purse. She hadn't meant to hurt her father, she thought he would be happy. Her mother noticed her distress and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Use that money for yourself, darling." Her mother said. "Buy yourself something nice. It's about time you did something to make yourself happy."

Brittany stayed up all night thinking about what to get for herself. She'd never bought anything nice. _What makes me happy?_ She asked herself and only one thing came to mind. _Santana._ That was all she needed to be happy and since she had her, what could money buy?

Brittany woke early the next morning. Her mother had just finished cooking breakfast when she stumbled downstairs. Her mother was struggling with a large pot and Brittany rushed to her aid.

"Thank you, darling." With a huff, they hoisted the pot onto the table. Her mother placed a hand on her back. "I'm getting far too old for this."

"You're still young, mother." Brittany prodded her with a finger.

"Your brothers are all flitting about town. They'll return when they get hungry." She said. "Why don't you go into town today? Find yourself something nice."

"I'll buy a gift for Papa." Brittany replied. "If he won't accept money, I'll give him something else." Her mother smiled with her big watery blue eyes. She reached up on her tip toes and kissed her daughter on the forehead.

"God must've made a mistake. He sent us an angel instead of a person." She said fondly. Brittany smiled back at her mother. She could feel her eyes burning and before she burst into tears in front of her mother, she skipped outside.

"I won't be long, mother!" She yelled as she ran away.

"If you find any of your brothers, tell them to come home!" Her mother shouted after her. Brittany waved and ran off towards the market.

She had never been shopping for herself or for anyone before. The vendors sensed, either from hearing the coins jingling in her purse or by her cheery demeanour that she had money to spend. She looked around, often tempted by new clothes or jewelry. She passed by a merchant who sold cobbler's tools and remembered the worn out hammer, the chipped trimmers and the rusted punchers.

"I'll buy the finest set you have." She said to the tool merchant. He fetched several sturdy looking pieces and Brittany pointed out the ones she wanted. He wrapped them up and handed them back to her. She fetched a few coins from her purse and handed it to him. It felt good paying with her own money. And this was something her father would be sure to accept.

She made her way past many rows of colorful ribbon and cloth imported from the east. None of it interested her, she was far too focused on practical things. But as she passed the window of another jeweler, something red in the window caught her eye. She stopped and stared at it in disbelief.

It was the music box.

She quickly ducked inside where the jeweler was smoking a long pipe. When she entered, he put down his pipe.

"May I help you, Miss?" He asked. Brittany walked straight over to the window and stared down at the music box. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't exactly the same but it was close. It was not as extravagant and a more worn than the one she saw years ago but her memory was clear and it resembled the original very closely.

"Ah, I acquired that piece a few years ago. It's quite lovely." The jeweler said. "If you are interested, I can give you a good price for it."

"I'd like to buy it." Brittany said, surprising the jeweler. He blinked. His earlier statement was meant in jest, he didn't expect her to take her up on the offer.

"It's quite expensive." He replied.

"I can afford it." Brittany turned back, presenting her with the purse. His eyes went as wide as the music disk inside the music box and took it from her. He could not believe a commoner had that much money. He thought he would never sell it off and here was this girl, no older than sixteen, buying the blasted thing off of him. He eyed her warily, thinking that perhaps she'd stolen it but she gazed in innocent awe of the music box. Her pure expression made him dismiss his assumptions immediately.

"How much?" She asked, opening it up and inspecting the innards. A thick metal disk resided on the inside. A long brass handle led out from the box, the wind up mechanism. She closed the top and turned back to the shop keeper who eagerly counted out the cost.

"Everything that remains is in the purse." She took the now significantly lighter bag from him. She shook it, hearing the sparse jingle of whatever was left. But when she turned around and looked at that music box, she decided it was worth it.

Santana had always talked about the music box she gave up to save Brittany. What better way to show her Mistress how much she loved her than to buy a music box for her? It was large and heavy but Brittany carried it home with a light heart. She wanted to see the look on Santana's face when she gave it to her.

When Brittany returned to her house, she presented the gifts to her mother. She'd bought her mother a pendant - her mother always gazed at jewelry when they walked in town, and to her father she presented the tools. He took them and his eyes watered with appreciation. She kissed them both. They eyed the third present with some skepticism.

"Who is that for?" Her mother asked.

"A friend." Brittany lied.

"That must be some friend." Her mother said, staring at the expensive gift. Brittany grinned. Her mother had no idea.

The rest of her stay with her family crawled. She loved her siblings, her mother and father but the anticipation made the rest of the day hard to bear. All she could imagine was Santana's stunned face breaking out into that gorgeous smile. She hated to admit it but she wanted to return to the Fabray estate as soon as possible.

When the next day came, she felt a little guilty waking up first thing in the morning and strapping the music box onto the horse. Her whole family gathered outside to bid her farewell.

"Must you leave so soon?" Her mother inquired.

"I need to get back." Brittany replied. "Mistress Fabray waits for me."

"Come back soon, Brittany!" Colin shouted, almost hopping onto the horse with her. Brittany waved at them all as she rode away. The family did not disperse until she was out of sight.

* * *

Puck stood outside the Fabray estate. He wasn't sure how he got there, just that it started out as a walk and somehow he wound up in front of Quinn's house. He cursed at himself and looked around, wondering aloud how he managed to walk at least an hour and not notice where he was headed. He looked around, hoping no one noticed him and turned on his heel to walk away. He kicked at the dirt path, sending a cloud of dust flying up into his face. He coughed and waved his hand to clear the dust. Just as he did, he noticed something coming towards him. When his vision cleared, his blood drained from his face.

"What are you doing here?" Puck's mouth went drier than the dirt path beneath him as Quinn Fabray walked towards him.

At the same time, Brittany stabled the horse, taking off the saddle and reins. She patted the poor beast, whispering an apology for riding it as hard as she did. She held the music box with both her hands. As she walked up the hill towards the back porch doors, she noticed two figures standing in the road. She recognized both. Quinn was dressed in a white lace dress and the other one she could've recognized a mile away.

"Puck?" She whispered aloud. She tiptoed over to watch the scene from behind a set of bushes and set the music box down out of sight.

"Answer me, are you here to visit Brittany? She hasn't returned yet, I don't expect her back until late this afternoon." Quinn said. Puck stuck his hands in his pockets and refused to acknowledge her or make eye contact. Quinn waited a moment longer for his response before walking past him with her nose turned up at his rudeness. Just as her foot touched the steps, Puck whirled around.

"I love you." He blurted. Brittany audibly gasped and threw her hand over her mouth, hoping no one heard. So Quinn was the girl Puck loved. Quinn spun around to face him.

"What did you say?"

"I said I love you." Puck repeated. "I know that my feelings are nothing but a burden to you but I had to say it."

"If you knew they were going to be a burden, why bother?" She demanded. He shrugged, unsure why he suddenly burst out with his feelings. She turned around and walked towards him. His eyes remained downcast as she approached him. He could smell her perfume and it sent his head spinning with desire.

"What makes you think I would even consider someone as lowly as you?" She asked. Puck gritted his teeth when she laughed at the absurdity of his confession. "I am to marry a prince."

"A prince?" Puck asked. "But I thought it was sure that Prince Finn would marry Lady Santana?" Quinn sneered upon hearing it. Brittany cocked her ears. Quinn sounded so sure of herself.

"And what would you know of politics?" She demanded. "Perhaps Lady Santana will change her mind. Perhaps I have something of hers that she wants, and that she would rather have than the crown."

"Something she would rather have than the crown?" It was Puck's turn to laugh and roll his eyes. "She wouldn't give up the crown for anything in this world." Quinn raised an eyebrow and turned back towards the house.

"Whether she gives it up or not, I would never stoop so low as to give myself to you." She snapped and went inside. Puck kicked the dirt again, this time when the dirt blinded him, he convinced himself that was why the tears were trailing down his cheek.

In the bushes, Brittany could not shake Quinn's words. What did Quinn have that Santana wanted badly enough she would give up marrying the Prince. Perhaps Quinn was bluffing. She didn't remember seeing anything around the estate that would pique Santana's interest.

_I would've given up anything for you to be at my side again._

Brittany's heart hammered to a stop when she remembered those words. Suddenly she knew what Quinn had that Santana would give up everything for. It was her.

* * *

Santana was in her room when her mother entered. She regarded the Duchess with contempt, knowing that her mother only sought her out when she wanted to berate her for something she did or didn't do.

"Yes, mother?" She asked preempting her mother. Her mother sat down next to her and brushed her hair back. Santana hated when her mother did that. It was such a false motherly gesture and she only did that when she wanted something of Santana.

"What is your plan for the upcoming dinner?" She asked.

"I want to be happy, mother." Santana said simply. "And I will do whatever it takes to get it." Her mother frowned and she placed her hands on Santana's shoulders.

"Happiness is temporary, my dear, especially for one so young. We noblemen and women often find ourselves at a junction where we can either do what we want or do what is expected of us. What makes you happy now may spell disaster down the road."

"Are you talking about Prince Finn?" Santana asked, shrugging her mother's grip off of her. Her mother smiled but she did not answer the question directly.

"You may not love Prince Finn but if you marry him, you will have very few people to answer to. You can focus on your happiness then, Santana, when you have all the means at your disposal. Things that weren't possible now become possible with his power and influence. Rules that either I or your father made become obsolete." She stood up and her imposing figure loomed over Santana like a harbinger of a sort. She turned and walked gracefully out of Santana's room, leaving her with just one more suggestion.

"Do think about it when you converse with the Prince." She said and closed the door, leaving Santana to wonder just how much her mother suspected.

* * *

Brittany sat outside with her head folded in her arms. She played Quinn's words over and over again in her head. Santana wouldn't be that daft, would she? To give up the crown for her? She was a mere servant. As in love with her as Santana was, how could she sabotage her future for a peasant girl?

But as much as Brittany tried to reason that Santana was more logical than that, she could believe it. Santana had done it before. She'd risked her own life for someone she'd never met before - twice.

"Oh My Lady..." Brittany whispered. "How could I ever be worth it?" She loved Santana too much to let her do this to herself. She could not bear the idea of Santana being chained to someone as poor and undesirable as herself. As long as she was around, Santana would always be willing to sacrifice everything she had. As long as she existed in Santana's life, Santana could always be manipulated. But she would not allow Santana to do it anymore. With her resolve set, she stood up and looked out the window. The sun was just setting across the horizon. With any luck, she'd reach the Lopez estate before Santana fell asleep.

It was just after dinner when Santana arrived back in her room. She lay on her bed, exhausted by the heat of the day. Just as she closed her eyes, the familiar sound of pattering against the window got her up. _It can't be_. She thought to herself as she walked over to the window. Sure enough, Brittany stood in plain sight below. Santana cursed under her breath and ran downstairs, carefully avoiding the servants and anyone else who might turn their attention to her actions.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Santana asked, taking her hands. Brittany opened her mouth to demand the truth, to ask if Quinn was lying. But she didn't need Santana to answer it. Just looking at her former Mistress convinced her. The setting sun illuminated Santana's brown eyes, turning them almost a fire red. They sparkled whenever they looked at Brittany. Here was a noblewoman who would give up everything for a love that, in Brittany's opinion, was not worth it. That's when Brittany realized what she had to do. Words were not going to convince Santana not to do something idiotic for love. She had to take action to save Santana from ruining her future.

"I just came to see you." Brittany replied.

"Would you like to come in? Most of the servant are at dinner, I could sneak you..." Brittany shook her head.

"I should head back. Lady Quinn is expecting me." She replied. Santana regarded her with a puzzled look.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes." Brittany smiled to convince her. "I will...I will see you again." Santana leaned and kissed her quickly on the lips. Brittany's eyes flew open as she looked around to see if anyone had seen.

"Miss!" She exclaimed, pulling away quickly.

"I love you." Santana replied. She let go of Brittany's hands and ran back inside. Brittany watched her go sadly, knowing what she had to do. She turned her back and walked away. She didn't get a few steps down into the woods when a voice stopped her.

"I thought that might've been you." Brittany turned around as Puck smiled at her from the top of the barn.

"Puck!" She exclaimed, walking back out.

"You should be more careful. Who knows if someone else saw." He winked at her and she turned bright red.

"Puck, please don't..."

"I won't say a word." Puck replied. "The good Lord knows I have sinned enough for two people. And if you are in love, who's to say it's wrong?" He winked at her. Brittany let out a relieved sigh and looked back at the estate.

"I can't let her go on like this." She whispered.

"What was that?" Puck made his way down from the roof and planted himself in front of her. He studied her downtrodden and defeated face. "Is something..."

"Goodbye, Puck." Brittany cut him off.

"Goodbye? You say that as if you are leaving for good." Brittany suddenly hugged him, much to his surprise. He didn't get a chance to hug back before she let him go.

"I love her." She cried, wiping her tears. "And that's why I must go."

"Go where?" Puck asked, bewildered.

"Anywhere, anywhere that she won't look."

"I don't understand."

"I overheard your conversation with Quinn." Brittany admitted. Puck started at the revelation. He opened his mouth to apologize for keeping it from her but she went on before he spoke. "Quinn said that there was something she had that Santana would give up the crown for." Puck's eyes narrowed in concentration. Then they flew open and stared at her in shock.

"You?" He breathed.

"Yes." Brittany replied, unable to stop the tears. "I love her dearly. And I can't bear to see her do this. As long as I stay with Quinn, Quinn will always be able to use me against her. And it isn't just Quinn, if we are found out..." She closed her eyes. She did not want to imagine what would happen to Santana if someone discovered their secret. Santana could lose everything, even her life if it ever came out that the two were lovers.

"But you don't have to go..."

"Yes, I do." The last of the light faded into the horizon. Brittany inhaled deeply. "She has always put my well-being before her own. She's risked her life and reputation for me and it has to stop."

"This is idiotic." Puck snapped. Brittany shook her head.

"As long as she loves me, someone will find a way to exploit that. And I don't have the status or money to protect her like she has protected me." She smiled and sniffed and tried to hold back the tears. "Wouldn't you do the same for Lady Quinn?" Puck's hands dropped uselessly by his side. Brittany grabbed one of his hands and squeezed it.

"She will not stop until she finds you again." Puck said.

"Then I will go somewhere she won't find me." Brittany responded. He bit the inside of his cheek and Brittany let go of his hand. "You've been a good friend, Puck." She whispered and kissed him on the cheek. Puck watched as she ducked into the woods and before he found it in himself to chase after her, she was gone. He felt useless to stop her because he knew he would do the same for Quinn.

When Brittany arrived back at the estate, Quinn was upstairs in her room getting ready for bed. Brittany walked in, bowing low to her Mistress.

"You are late." Quinn reprimanded. "I thought you would be back by the afternoon."

"My apologies, Miss, I made a small stop elsewhere." Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Well, I am exhausted after a long day. Retire to your chambers and be silent, won't you? I don't want to be woken up by anything."

"Yes, Miss." Brittany said. Quinn climbed into bed and shut her eyes while Brittany went inside her small room. Once inside, she lit the remains of her candle and looked at her reflection. She broke down into silent tears. She sat down on her bed and curled up on her side, clutching her bracelet so close to her chest the links left deep impressions in her skin. She loved Santana, and it hurt more than anything to think that someone was perverting their love for one another. She never imagined that Quinn would be so cruel, but she realized it just as easily could've been another other nobleman or woman manipulating Santana to have their way.

And that was what frightened her.

She rolled over to the edge of the bed and sat up. She looked at the candle, down to its last few inches of wax. Outside, she could hear Quinn slumbering soundly. She knew what had to be done. Slowly and quietly, she crept outside. She crept over to Quinn's desk and fetched two pieces of parchment as well as her quill and ink. Once she had both, she stole silently back into her room. She knelt by the window, where there was a flat surface for her to write on and began composing her letter.

_My Dear Lady Santana,_

_I hope my poor penmanship does not offend you. I was not offered a fine learning opportunity such as yours. What I learned, I did so by watching you as I have done for the past six years. So please understand that this letter does not come hastily written. I have been nothing but troubled as of late. I have been troubled by our actions and my feelings. Since your confession, I have done a lot of thinking. You are the kind-hearted woman who saved not only my life, but the life of my family members. I owe you a great debt that can never be repaid._

_ I know of Lady Quinn's plan. I accidentally overheard the Lady__ one day__. I know of her sinister plot to use me against you. I cannot allow it any further. You deserve much more than I can ever provide, Miss. I love you far too much to drag you down to my level. You deserve a prince, no, a king, not some pauper like me. Please understand that I do this out of love and nothing else. I love you, Santana. You've sacrificed too much for me and I fear it will only continue. So before that happens, I must depart. I must leave your side so that you have no more ties binding you from what is rightfully yours._

_ Please do not come looking for me. I could not bear to see your face, not after you've read this letter. If we should run into each other, perhaps long after both of us have healed, I will smile and bow to you, like all the other commoners. And, if you have come to forgive me by then, I hope that you would deign to smile back. _

_ Yours,_

_ Brittany S. Pierce._

Brittany looked over her letter. The words illuminated everything that was in her heart. It conveyed just how much she loved her former Mistress, and how much it hurt to let her go. She read it over several times, knowing that in any other situation, Santana might laugh at her chicken scratch handwriting. It was the perfect last letter to write to Santana.

_"She will not stop until she finds you again." _Puck was right. Santana would not stop until she found Brittany. She would not stop loving her, not with this letter. This letter was not enough. Brittany had to put aside what was in her heart. She crumpled the letter and threw it aside where it wedged between the bed and the wall. She grabbed another piece of parchment. Her hand shook violently as she wrote, so much so that she paused between each letter. She even had to push the parchment away when she started crying, to avoid smudging the freshly written words. She wiped her tears away, rubbing a bit of black ink onto her cheek. When she was done, she looked at her new letter. The body of the letter was only three sentences long, twelve words in total. It spoke nothing of what she really felt but it said everything she needed to say to protect the one she loved most. She then took off her bracelet, planted a small kiss to it and laid it down next to her finished letter.

When Quinn awoke the next day, Brittany was gone.

* * *

"Come, Santana, we are going to be late." The Duchess called out. It was the night of the king's dinner and Santana did a final check in the mirror to make sure that her make-up and hair were done right. Even if it wasn't to impress Prince Finn, she had to look her best.

"Coming, mother." She shouted back. Satisfied with the way she looked, she walked out of her room and down the stairs. Her father beamed when he saw her.

"Ever beautiful, my darling." He said as she approached. She gave them a weak smile. They hurried into their carriages, already running late. Santana had worked out what she would say to the prince.

_"Your Highness, what do you think of the rumors?" _She would say. _"Many believe that my father and the King want to arrange our marriage."_ She imagined the confused, slightly terrified look on his face. _"Well, I personally think it is preposterous, if I may be so bold, Lady Quinn Fabray looks much more agreeable by your side, don't you think?" _That was all it would take. Prince Finn wasn't the brightest, plant a suggestion in his head and he would more than likely take to it. He would soon forget all about Santana and turn to Quinn. If that wasn't enough which given how dense the prince was, it was possible that it wouldn't be enough, she would refuse to see him after that. But for tonight, it was a start. It was her fulfilling her end of the bargain.

They arrived at the grand palace a little after the sun had set. The footmen took their coats and ushered them into the grand dining room. The King stood up when he saw his old friend and clapped him on the shoulder, remarking that the Duke was getting older while the Duchess got younger. Santana was seated awkwardly next to the Prince. Quinn sat down a few chairs down and opposite them and she immediately glared Santana down. She watched Santana carefully, wondering if Brittany had fled and gone to her. But Santana looked no different, shot her no smug smile to signify that the deal was off. Quinn rolled her eyes towards the Prince and when Santana nodded, Quinn knew she was safe for the moment. But she needed Santana to act quickly before she found out that Brittany was missing.

Santana remained quiet throughout dinner. She listened to the idle chatter of the men and the gossip of women. Finn shifted uncomfortably in his seat and kept glancing at the young Berry girl sitting a little ways down the table. Quinn sat right next to her and whenever Santana looked over, she rolled her eyes towards Finn, growing ever impatient with Santana's inaction.

As dinner drew to a close, Santana felt it was time to keep her end of the deal. She caught Quinn's attention to make sure the blonde noblewoman was watching. Her fingers grazed Finn's arm and he turned to her.

"Your Highness, I was wondering if I could have a word with you later on?" Santana asked quietly. A smirk spread across Quinn's face when the prince nodded in that clueless way of his. Finally things were coming together. Santana had no idea that Brittany was no longer at her estate.

No sooner than Santana leaned away from the royal prince when a messenger walked in. He subtly tapped Santana on the shoulder and when she looked back at him, he presented her with a letter and a silver bracelet. Santana recognized the bracelet immediately; it was the one she gave Brittany. She looked down at it, then back up at the messenger who shrugged and walked away. She opened the letter quickly, and studied he first few lines. Quinn watched as her expression turned from calm and slightly bored to confused and panicked.

"Please excuse me, Your Highness." Santana said. He nodded and stood up as courtesy. Santana clutched the letter and bracelet to her chest as she ran as far away from the dining room as possible. The Duchess watched as well, her eyes narrowing. Quinn also excused herself from the table and chased after her.

Santana fled into the massive showroom where the only other people there were made of marble and granite. She opened the letter and read it again. The handwriting was barely legible, filled with smudges and poorly written letters. But nonetheless Santana could understand.

_My Lady,_

_ I am sorry, I was mistaken. I do not love you. Goodbye._

_ Sincerest,_

_ Brittany S. Pierce_

The letter left no explanation. It said not where Brittany went, nor how she came to the conclusion. It simply stated that she had. All the blood drained from Santana's face and she felt a distinct numbing in her face, as if all the nerves had suddenly died. She wanted to dismiss the letter as a joke, she would go to Brittany tomorrow and reprimand her for making her feel horrible. But Brittany would not do something like this and Santana knew the letter was real.

Tears rolled down Santana's cheeks as she read it over and over again. She read it over, trying to decipher what Brittany really meant, trying to find some hidden meaning. She looked over and over for any way it could've been fake but with every read through, her heart broke a little more. She did not understand it. Just two nights ago, Brittany had visited, how could she have changed her mind so quickly?

"What on earth are you doing?" Quinn demanded storming into the room. She paused upon seeing Santana's tear stained face. Santana ran over to her and gripped her shoulders. Her desperation was clear. Quinn heard the soft tear of parchment and looked at Santana's left hand. She gripped the letter so hard that the paper tore along the edge.

"Where is she?" Santana pleaded. "Tell me she's back at your estate. Tell me." Quinn opened her mouth to speak. It would've been so easy to lie to Santana, to tell her that Brittany was indeed in her small room adjacent to Quinn's. She wanted the crown so badly, that in any other case, she would've done so. But seeing Santana so broken by a simple letter stunned Quinn into speaking the truth.

"I-I don't know." Quinn admitted. Once she'd spoken it, there was no going back. "I'm sure she's fine. She'll come back." More tears rolled down Santana's cheek. She was too dignified to break down in sobs but the rest of her body spoke volumes. Her hands were balled up in fists, clutching the letter so hard that it rumpled in her hand. Quinn suspected that Santana did not care. Santana's mind raced to justify Brittany's actions but even if she came up with a logical explanation, it did nothing to assuage her freshly broken heart.

"Where did she go? Why didn't you tell me?" Santana demanded. Quinn looked at the ground, concentrating on the glazed marble.

"If I knew where she went, I would bring her back."

"You found her once, you can find her again!" Santana shouted. Quinn looked her in the eye steadily. "We had a deal, Quinn!"

"You haven't kept up our end." Quinn retorted.

"Bring her back. Find her, please, I'll do whatever you ask of me." Santana pleaded. Quinn's eyes responded in ways that her voice could not. Brittany was not coming back. Brittany had left for good. Brittany...Brittany did not love her.

_I thought she loved me._ A small voice in her head thought despairingly.

_You were wrong. She never loved you. It says so right there. She returned your bracelet, she returned your love._ A stronger, hateful voice hissed back, snuffing out the smaller voice that could have only been the glimmer of love that barely had time to kindle. Like a flame suffocating, Brittany's final words finally surrounded her heart and squeezed until she could feel no more.

The Duchess entered the room just to see the light flicker from Santana's eyes. She recognized it the minute she saw it. All the hope drained from Santana's face. Whatever the letter said, it had done the same thing her young baron's death did to her all those years ago.

_The cycle continues._ She thought to herself. She had to play her role, a role that one day Santana would take when she had a daughter.

"Santana." She said curtly. Quinn snapped around while Santana slowly lifted her head. The Duchess approached them gracefully. Quinn had never felt intimidated by anyone, not even the King. But Duchess Lopez wordlessly commanded respect and Quinn bowed and stepped aside.

"Your Grace." Quinn acknowledged formally.

"Please leave us." The Duchess ordered. Quinn hesitated to do so. She cast a look in Santana's direction. Santana's face was expressionless, as if there was no energy left in her anymore to even move. She stared emptily at her mother as tears continued to rush down her cheeks "I will not ask again." The Duchess never once took her gaze off of her daughter. Quinn left to rejoin the others.

"Mother, I-" Santana began but the Duchess cut her off with a stern look. Standing in front of her daughter, who was every bit as broken as she was years ago, the Duchess finally understood why her mother forced her to marry the Duke. It gave her a purpose, a reason to wake up when it was so easy to drown in despair. The Duchess now had to do the same.

"The Prince is waiting for you." She said. She took a bit of her sleeve and dabbed at Santana's cheek. Santana did not respond. She normally hated when her mother touched her but she no longer cared. "Do not forget what you came here to do."

"I-"

"You are my daughter. I raised you for this moment and for all moments like this. You have an opportunity few would even dream of. I will not stand by and watch that Fabray girl take advantage of your lapse in judgement." She held her head high. Life seeped back into Santana with every sentence the Duchess spoke. "Go. Entertain the prince. Do not make me ashamed to call you my daughter." Santana nodded.

"Yes mother." She whispered.

"Louder. I did not hear you the first time. Are you going to speak to the prince like that? You are not a mouse, you are my daughter. You will accentuate your words so that everyone knows that you are a woman to be respected or feared. Either will do."

"Yes mother." Santana spoke clearer that time and the Duchess saw renewed vigor seep into Santana's muscles.

"Go." As if motivated by the command, Santana walked out with her head held high. She focused on what she would say to Prince Finn, how she should act and grab his attention. As her mother predicted, this new sense of purpose consumed her. It was her mind's defense to stop her whole world from falling apart around her. She pushed the image of Brittany to the back of her mind and buried her feelings. She did not even realize that her hands went slack and the letter dropped onto the ground. After she left the room, the Duchess walked over and picked up the letter. It was so crumpled that the words were illegible and the Duchess had no interest in reading it. Whatever it said, it had done the job she had planned to do. She crushed the letter in her hands further, reducing it to a small ball. As she exited the gallery, she handed it to a nearby servant.

"Dispose of it." She commanded. "It is rubbish."

Quinn waited for Santana's return. Most of the guests had migrated into the ballroom for some light entertainment. The orchestra played soft background music while they chatted amicably. When Santana entered the room, Quinn immediately flew to her side.

"The Prince has been looking for you. You do plan to keep your end of the deal, correct?" Quinn hissed. Santana looked over at her and smirked. "I will find her again, so long as you keep your end of the deal."

"No." Santana said simply. The Prince noticed her and walked over.

"My Lady, you asked to speak with me?" He said. Santana noticed that he had been talking with the Berry girl.

"Yes, I have much to talk to you about. But it is rather stuffy in here, is it not? And it is too loud. Perhaps we can take a walk outside where I can breathe easier." Santana suggested. Quinn dug her nails into her palm and she clenched her jaw in anger. This went unnoticed by the Prince who nodded.

"I agree." He replied. "It is far too nice outside to let the weather go to waste." Santana and the prince walked out, chatting about nothing in particular. Much of them room turned to watch them leave and Quinn resisted the urge to stomp her foot and storm out. They almost ran into the Duchess as she was returning. Santana refused to make eye contact with her mother as she and the Prince left but the Duchess stopped in mid-stride and watched them until they disappeared into the darkness outside. She nodded in approval.

* * *

Elsewhere, in a small, sleepy town no bigger than a few rows of houses, Brittany handed a few coins over to a hunchbacked old man who could go no more than a few steps without his cane. It was the last of her pay from working at the Fabray estate and tomorrow, she needed to find work if she was to support herself for the years to come. She could not return to her family for fear that someone would come looking for her there.

She marched up the tiny, creaky stairwell to a small attic room on the third floor of the house. She opened the door to a room slightly bigger than the one she occupied when she served Quinn. But this room had no bed, just a threadbare sheet stretched over a small section of worn floor. Brittany took one step into the room and drove a large splinter into her big toe. She yelped in pain and brought her foot up with one hand. She sighed and winced when she pulled out the thin, pointed sliver of wood. She looked around again. The room certainly needed cleaning. Cobwebs occupied most of the ceiling, barely a foot above her head. The wood on the windows had contracted and expanded so much over the years that they were wedged shut. Brittany wrestled with it for a while but she could not get the window to budge upward an inch.

Tired, worn and equally heartbroken, she gave up and delicately rested herself on the sheet. She wondered if Santana had read the letter yet. She must've, the messenger had left early.

_I wish I could tell you it was a lie. I wish I could tell you that I love you._ Brittany thought as tears pricked her eyes and rolled down either side of her face. She rolled onto her side and brought a fistful of the sheet to wipe them away but more sprung up to take their place. She missed Santana greatly. But there was no doubt in her mind she'd done the right thing. Tonight, if she managed to sleep, she would dream of Santana, no doubt. And it would happen the following night, and perhaps many nights after that. But Brittany hoped that one day the dreams would stop. But if they didn't, she could accept that as punishment for what she did. She instinctively reached down to touch her silver bracelet and physically winced when she did not feel it. But she couldn't go back now. She had to do what was best for Santana.

* * *

It was love that changed the Duke and Duchess almost two decades ago. The Duke, who had never known love before, fell victim to feelings that would never be reciprocated. Conversely, the Duchess, who had been every bit in love lost it in one tragic moment. Subsequently, she buried her heart so deep that no one would recover it again.

It was love that changed this story's two protagonists. But unlike the Duke and Duchess, Santana and Brittany's story does not end here, with two broken hearts. Their story continues as will the love that changed them.

_End Act 1_


	16. Part 2: Bad Omens

The whole country buzzed with rumors and gossip. It was the biggest news of the decade. To hear the the King had taken ill and showed no signs of getting any better was the main fodder for conversations. Peasants and nobles whispered under their breaths that perhaps they would get a new king. Ambitious and powerful men eyed the still young prince for signs of weakness so that they may swoop in and steal the throne from under the clueless royal. There were also talks that perhaps a king was not needed after all. These were the most dangerous and least spoken of rumors for it was treason to speak of the subject. It was both exciting and terrifying for the denizens of the area. Royalty had never been popular among the poorer folk but they mostly kept their place.

But with a new King must come the talks of a new Queen to aid in continuing the lineage. The most exciting rumor of the lot was that the prince was to take a wife by the end of the year and speculation began on which young noblewoman he would choose. Some thought it would be a Princess from another country, to further political and territorial means, a handful believed he had eyes for a certain Earl's daughter out in the country, and that he would sacrifice politics for her. But most believed it would be…

"The Lady Santana Lopez." The landlord whispered to a traveling messenger. "I hear that she's wormed her way into the King and Prince's favor."

"She's ruthless, which may be a boon to the Prince. She can be every bit the strategist he is not."

"But you said it yourself, she's merciless." The landlord countered. Their conversation was interrupted by a tall, thin blond rushing down the stairs and out the door. She had a handwoven basket in one hand filled to the brim with white, yellow and pink flowers; her wares for the day.

"Off to earn your keep, are you Brittany?" The landlord called out playfully as she dashed down the street.

"A girl has to eat somehow!" Brittany yelled back.

"Get yourself a husband and he'll take care of it!" He shouted. She laughed brightly and ran out of sight. The messenger, a young man in the throes of his youth, stared blankly after her.

"She isn't married?" He asked in a squeaky voice. It was as if an angel had descended those creaky, narrow steps. Her laugh was filled with light and her eyes were the palest, most haunting blue he'd ever seen.

"Pretty girl like her, you would think even a Marquess's would notice her. But she's been here for almost a year and hasn't so much as mentioned a boy." The messenger swallowed the lump in his throat and the landlord hit him with his cane.

"Don't even think about it, boy. Men more charming than you can ever dream of becoming have all pursued her. Yet she turns them down one after one." He shooed the young boy away and leaned against the wall. She surely had her reasons.

Brittany took her usual spot at the junction of their small cobblestone pathway into the town and the larger dirt road where no more than thirty people passed a day. She wiped the sweat off her face and looked up. She hoped that a few would stop to buy her flowers in the morning before running back to the house and preparing lunch for her landlord. By helping him with his domestic errands since his knees bothered him to such a degree that he hardly moved if he could help it, her landlord reduced the price of her rent so that she could get by selling a few flowers here and there and helping the local tailor sew buttons for precious few coins.

It was a hard life but she enjoyed it. It would've been easy to find a husband to provide for her, like the landlord said. She couldn't go a week without catching the eye of some young (or old) passerby. But she brushed any and all advances away for a reason that was never the same each time.

She thought about Santana every now and again. Being away and alone solidified her belief that what she did was the right thing. At first it hurt and she dreamed of her former mistress nightly. But soon her thoughts were consumed by how to get by, finding jobs, earning enough to buy food. It was a good thing, she'd rather spend her time thinking about her empty stomach than dwelling on her admittedly sudden and rash actions. She wanted to think that she had finally moved on after a year but overhearing her landlord talk about how Santana could marry the prince made Brittany's heart sink uncomfortably. At once she was glad and disheartened by the gossip. Santana was doing what was right and Brittany hoped that Santana was happy. But it tortured her to think that Santana found that happiness in someone else.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice a young man dismount his horse directly in front of her. He waved to her, trying to catch her attention. He thought her a strange and distracted girl, but a very pretty one. Her brightly colored flowers caught his eyes from a distance but her simple beauty drew him in.

"Miss?" He said once he was no more than a few inches before her. She jumped when she noticed him and took a shocked step back. He laughed at her flustered expression. He wore a brown coat and a white satin waistcoat underneath and dark breeches to match. The coat was embroidered delicately and elaborately, signifying his status as a nobleman. The material was velvet, most probably his most formal of clothes and he was probably off to meet some important people. Yet Brittany caught a glimpse of a heavily frayed inner hem. He'd worn that coat quite a few times. He might've been a nobleman, but he didn't have much power, perhaps just a lower ranking title. The Duke would never wear anything remotely frayed. He always looked his best, even if he wasn't expecting company.

He noticed her studying his outfit and he coughed to catch her attention. She started again and looked at his smiling, bespectacled face.

"Please excuse me!" She apologized. "I don't know what has come over me." He waved his hand.

"It's quite alright." He replied. "In this sun, I don't know how anyone could stay focused. What is your name?"

"Brittany. Brittany Pierce, sir." She answered quickly.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Pierce. Arthur Abrams." He nodded his head a bit. "I saw your flowers from far away. Quite beautiful. I don't suppose you would be willing to part with some of them?" Brittany hurriedly lifted the basket of flowers up for him to see. He studied all of them, picking a mix of colors from the bunch.

"They are for my wife." He explained. "She loves flowers and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to bring some back for her, especially ones so beautiful." Brittany blinked in surprise. This man couldn't have been any older than her, yet he was married? He noticed her astonished expression and grinned.

"I know what you are thinking." He said as he arranged the flowers to his liking. Brittany set the basket down and wrapped them in a thin layer of wet paper, tying it closed with twine. "I must look very young to be a married man."

"I didn't..."

"Sometimes you cannot help it." He answered simply. "Thank you." He handed her a few coins as payment, far more than she usually got. "If things do not go well in court, I can at least make my wife happy with these." Brittany didn't know what business he had, but it certainly seemed important by the way his mouth turned down thinking about it. She quickly knelt down and picked a white carnation from her basket.

"For luck." She blurted. "Carnations are good luck." Arthur turned to her. It was his turn to be surprised. He took the flower, genuinely touched by the commoner's concern for him.

"Thank you, Miss. I will certainly need all the luck I can get."

* * *

Santana could hear shouting all the way from the entrance. She'd gotten used to it by now. Ever since the King took ill, the people turned to Prince Finn for guidance but the prince was no where near the wise ruler his father was, not even when his father first became king. Finn was young and unprepared. She usually found him sitting by his father's side, begging him to get better, to continue ruling for a few more years. She almost felt sorry for him. He never asked for any of this and his father was the only family he had left after his mother died. But he was going to be the king of the country and he needed to act accordingly.

The shouting only grew louder as she neared the throne room. She saw a man standing in front of the guards. He was dressed in a shabby brown coat and his face was red with anger.

"I demand to see His Highness! I've already made the arrangements! How dare you get in my way?" The young man demanded. His hair was messy and stuck together with sweat. Santana could see Finn sitting with his hands folded in front of his face in the corner of the throne room.

"Let him through." Finn said, barely audible over the other man's shouting. The guards stepped aside and he stormed in.

"Your Highness, if I may say so, this is unacceptable. I made the necessary arrangements to meet with your father and this is how you treat me?" The young man demanded.

"As you may have heard, my father has taken ill and he isn't in any position to see anyone." Finn answered, standing up and walking over to the throne his father once sat in.

"But you are his heir and his duties fall to you since his sickness took over his body. And I demand that you take my request seriously. Do you even know what I came here for?" The young man replied. Santana watched from a distance, wondering how the young prince would handle the situation. Prince Finn sighed and looked away.

"There's nothing I can do, Mister Abrams. Your father disowned you."

"That is it? I have a birthright to my father's title and my father's estate! This is preposterous, I refuse to accept that as an answer." With every word Mr. Abrams spoke, she could see Finn shrinking back more and more.

"Perhaps when my father..."

"Open your eyes, Your Highness." Mr. Abrams pleaded. "Your father won't get any better. The populous looks to you now and you may begin by doing what is right. My father disowned me out of anger and temper and I know he would've taken it back had he come to his senses before he died. You know it, and you must be the benevolent ruler everyone expects you to be."

"I will think on the matter." Prince Finn said quietly. "Please take your leave." Mr. Abrams inhaled sharply. He turned on his heel, muttering frustrated curses under his breath. He barely acknowledged Santana's presence as he passed. Santana watched the young man leave. While storming out, something white fell from his coat and landed on the ground at her feet. She looked down. It was a white carnation. Not knowing why, she stooped down and picked it up, twirling it in her fingers. She looked back at the throne room. Finn was gone but she knew where he went. She walked through the door behind the throne and up the long winding staircase. She didn't bother knocking and the door was slightly ajar. When she walked in, Finn was there standing over his father.

Over the past year, the palace became a second home to her. She followed her mother's direction and spent more than half her time awake entertaining the Prince. At first it was awkward for her. She accidentally stumbled upon Finn when he was at his father's side. But he allowed her to stay and it soon became a familiar scene – seeing the prince in his most vulnerable moments.

"What was that all about?" She asked. The prince sighed and sat down on the steps, leaning his head against the stone wall.

"Things haven't gotten any easier." He replied with his eyes closed. "That was Arthur Abrams. His father was the late Count Abrams. He disowned his son after Arthur entered into an unfavorable union with an oriental girl he met on one of his travels. Just recently, his father died and Master Arthur has been trying to get back his title and land." Finn explained.

"If his father disowned him, he has no right to either." Santana replied.

"But I can't tell him that!" Prince Finn exclaimed. "He'd be left with nothing!"

"If everyone came to you asking for something and you gave it to them, it is you who would be left with nothing." Santana said coldly. "You are destined to be king and that means making decisions, some unpleasant."

"I never asked for this." Finn groaned. Santana regarded him with contempt. Her mother taught her to hate weakness in people and she could only see it in the Prince. "I'm not fit to rule. I can't look a man in the eye and say he can't have what he should. He did nothing wrong apart from marrying someone his father didn't approve of." Santana closed the door behind her as Finn covered his face with his hands. "I'm not a leader." Santana leaned against the door. He wasn't a leader but he was still next in line to the throne. Any day the king could die and Finn would have to shoulder the burden of a whole country. Santana absently twirled the flower still in her hands and the white of it caught Finn's eyes.

"What is that?" He asked, gesturing to the flower. Santana looked down in surprise. "Is that a carnation? I didn't know we grew those at the palace."

"You don't." Santana replied. She'd walked the palace gardens a thousand times. She would've noticed white carnations before. It had fallen from Master Abrams' coat and she speculated on where he obtained such a feminine accessory. The petals glowed in the darkness of the chamber. A smile flashed through her head, making her nerves stand on end. She remembered eyes as blue as the summer sky.

She handed the flower to Finn quickly, desperate to get rid of it. Finn smelled the flower. He stood up and set it next to his father's still figure. Santana shook her head while he looked away, as if the motion could erase the drudged up memories.

"White carnations..." Finn thought aloud. "Don't they mean pure love?"

* * *

Puck kicked at the dirt in front of the Fabray estate absently. He knew mentally that he should stop, that he was clearly out of his mind to be wandering here of all places. He managed to repress his feelings over the past year, a combination of stealing wine from the Lopez cellar and seducing as many women as he could. But on some nights when the wine was too heavily guarded and all the young servants had already gone to bed, he found himself taking long walks, often ending up not a few steps from Quinn's front door.

The lanterns were still lit outside, meaning that someone was still out and had not yet returned home. Puck turned around and decided to leave before whoever was still out came back and discovered a strange man standing in front of the house. Worse yet, maybe it was Quinn who was still out. If she discovered him, he wouldn't be able to make any excuses for being there. Just as he almost cleared out of the road, a carriage rounded the corner and headed straight for him. Puck ducked into the bushes, his heart still pounding. Hopefully the driver had not seen him dive headlong into the shrubs. He watched and waited for whoever it was to go inside so he could safely make the trip home.

"I've had a lovely evening." A deep male voice said. The door opened and an older man, perhaps in his thirties, stepped out of the car. He wore a large coat, odd since it was the sweltering summer and had a finely combed beard. He held out his hand and Quinn stepped out. Puck's breath caught in his throat as he watched the Marquess's daughter delicately step down. She wore a baby blue dress, her hair was pulled back and her makeup done impeccably. She clearly wanted to make an impression on someone and Puck had the distinct and dreadful feeling it was the man holding onto her hand.

"I have had a lovely evening as well." Quinn replied. And then all too suddenly, the man grabbed her hand tightly and pulled her in for a kiss. For a second, Quinn was paralyzed, unsure of how to react. Then she pushed him away.

"Your Grace!" She exclaimed. He pulled her close again.

"Let's end the night properly, shall we?" He asked, his voice oozing malicious intent.

"Please, your grace, no!" Puck could not stand idly by any longer. He jumped up from his hiding place and charged towards the two. Before either of them could react, Puck shoved the man forcefully, causing him to fall to the ground. Quinn's eyes widened in shock when she realized who her savior was.

"Puck!" She yelled.

"How dare you!" The man demanded. He drew his sword but Quinn jumped between the two.

"Please, Your Grace, he isn't worth it."

"He dared to harm me." The man hissed.

"He's a little mad, you see. He's our stable boy, he..." Quinn scrambled to come up with an excuse good enough to prevent her suitor from running his blade through Puck's stomach. "Please, he had no idea what he was doing. I beg you, he's not worth the trouble." The man gritted his teeth while Puck stared him down, challenging him. He looked back at Quinn who pleaded with her eyes for him to back down. He finally sheathed his sword after a tense few seconds.

"You need to restrain your servants better." The man hissed. He gently pushed Quinn aside and sized Puck up until their chests were almost touching. Puck lifted his chin in an effort to seem more intimidating. The man sneered. "And you, boy, be glad I don't want to shed blood in front of a lady." He spat in Puck's face and turned. Quinn jumped right back in front as Puck made to attack him again.

"I'll see you soon, Miss Fabray." The man called as he got back into the carriage. As soon as they were out of earshot, Quinn slapped Puck as hard as she could.

"Are you mad?" She yelled. "Do you know who he is? He is Duke Harrington! Who are you? You are no one. What in God's name are you even doing here?"

"I don't care if he's the Prince himself." Puck said, wiping his face with his shirt. "He had no right to treat you like that."

"You are absolutely insane, assaulting him like that." Quinn laughed at the absurdity of it. Had it not happened right in front of her, she never believed something like that would happen.

"I'm not insane, you are." Puck countered.

"Are we going to stand here and trade insults like children?" Quinn scoffed. "He has more money and more power than you will ever see in your entire lifetime."

"It doesn't give him the right to treat you as he did. Simply because he's a Duke, you would let him do that to you? You're no better than a whore after a man's money in that case." Puck snapped.

"How dare you!" Quinn exclaimed. She lifted her hand to slap him again. Puck stood defiantly before her, ready to take another hit. His pride showed clearly in his eyes. She could hit him until his face swelled up but it would never change his mind. Quinn put her hand down, defeated. "I admit, I never thought it would get as far as it did. But you don't seem to understand. If it means assuring my place in court, then I would be glad to submit to his will." Puck let out a bitter laugh.

"I cannot imagine what you would've done for the prince then."

"You can't." Quinn said quietly, earning a confused look from Puck. "It doesn't matter. You do not belong here and should you ever, ever involve yourself in my affairs again..."

"I won't." Puck promised. His voice carried a disapproval and shame for her. She was offended beyond words. How could a commoner understand the pains she had to go through so that her future was assured, so that she could live up to the high expectations her parents had and to surpass her sister's already lofty rank. She racked her brain trying to come up with a good retort, something to do with how he didn't understand because he had grown up uncultured. But she could think of nothing to counter his clear pity for her and her life.

* * *

Brittany leaned against the stone wall, fanning herself with her hand. There had been few other passerby's and none had stopped to buy flowers. Still, she'd made more than her usual with Mr. Abrams and she was happy for the day.

Just as she was about to go back into town and start cooking the landlord's dinner, she saw a figure approach her from far down the road. She squinted to get a better look. It was a woman's figure and she was on foot. It didn't take long before Brittany realized who it was and she rushed up to meet her.

"Mother!" She exclaimed, embracing her warmly. Brittany had only told one person in her family where she was staying. She sent letters to her family regularly, letting them know she was doing alright. She sent one private letter to her mother detailing her whereabouts. But this was the first time her mother had visited. Brittany cast a bashful look at the ground when she realized it had been well over a few weeks since her last letter.

"You haven't written in so long, I had to see if everything was in order. I was worried you might've fallen ill."

"I'm alright, mother." Brittany replied. "I'm sorry I haven't written, I haven't had the time nor money to do so." Her mother patted her shoulder.

"You look thin." Her mother commented. "Are you well? Come, let us go to your room, we can talk more there."

Brittany led her mother to her small abode. Her mother waited while she went downstairs to prepare the landlord's supper. Brittany had cleaned up the place over time. All the cobwebs were gone, the place had been properly dusted and she had managed to acquire a desk and a few chairs. Her mother examined her surroundings while Brittany served food. When she came back up, her mother had just opened the window to let in some cool evening air.

"How has everyone been?" Brittany asked. Her mother sat back down.

"They all worry about you, your father especially. You never explained why you suddenly left the Fabray estate, we just started receiving letters from you one day saying you'd moved." Brittany shifted uncomfortably. She couldn't tell her mother the truth. Her mother eyed her. "What happened?"

"Nothing, mother, I just wanted a change of scenery."

"You are a terrible liar. You get that from your father." Her mother scolded. Brittany folded her arms and flopped down in a chair. Her mother stopped smiling and reached out with her hand, stroking her daughter's hair. "That bad?"

"Mother, do you love father?" Brittany asked.

"Of course. Although I admit, I almost left him when he came home without you." Her mother replied. "That was the only time, though and he blamed himself enough for that." Realization dawned on the old woman and she broke out into a warm smile. "Is that it?" She asked, pulling the chair closer to her daughter's. "Has my daughter...has my daughter fallen in love?"

"I did." Brittany said. "But I gave it up."

"What?" Her mother asked, flabbergasted.

"I fell in love with someone who was going to give up everything for me, mother. I couldn't let that happen. I had to give it up, it was the right thing to do." Brittany pleaded with her eyes for her mother to reassure her, to tell her that she was right, that she had done the mature thing. But her mother's eyes shimmered with disapproval and the corners of her mouth turned down.

"Brittany..."

"You don't understand, mother. It was everything, it was status, it was power and comfort and..."

"Never give up on love because it is right." Her mother said and the words hammered into Brittany's chest, confirming the sliver of doubt that still lingered in her mind.

"I've done something incredibly stupid, haven't I?" Brittany whispered. Her mother was by her side instantly. Her mother did not speak further. She simply placed her hand on Brittany's back while Brittany did her best to keep her emotions in check. But in a moment, she rested her head on her mother's shoulder and cried. Her mother said nothing. She didn't need to chastise her daughter anymore. She knew Brittany would learn from heartache and she hoped that whomever Brittany left behind would learn too. They would both grow, mature, and fall in love again.

* * *

A loud clap of thunder sounded outside. Santana stood at her dresser and jumped at the noise. She looked outside as the rain started pouring down. It came down in sheets. Outside, she could barely make out the figure of the stablemaster quickly bringing the horses inside. She looked up at the sky. She was due for another meeting with the prince tomorrow and she hoped the rain would stop by the morning. She hated traveling in the rain, often times the wheels of the carriage would get stuck in the mud and she would be forced to wait until it was free again.

Another clap of thunder boomed above their house and she lifted her hands to her ears to shut out the noise. She closed her eyes against the lightning that pierced her vision through the window every few seconds. She curled up on the bed and pulled the covers over her head. She hated thunderstorms.

_"God would not strike someone like you down with lightning."_ The memory was more terrifying than the thunderstorm.

"Leave me be!" Santana yelled. She sat up and shook her head violently like a woman possessed. She sometimes thought she was. She'd done well for a year, she'd suppressed her memories and feelings for her servant for so long. So she wondered why they were suddenly returning in full force. It had begun with a flower, some stupid inconsequential flower that reminded her of the love she felt a year ago. And now it threatened to make her deal with her long tamped down emotions. She would rather stand in the rain with lightning and thunder sounding right above her than remember.

"I never want to think of you again!" She said. It had to be a bad omen, that girl had been nothing but a bad omen. Nothing good had ever come from her, Santana thought, trying once again to will away the memories. Best to forget she ever existed.

When morning arrived, Santana looked outside. The skies were still grey and the air carried a sticky and damp feeling that made Santana's skin itch. She could hear the splashes of water falling from the trees around her house, the rain had stopped barely an hour before she awoke. The door opened and a servant, she didn't bother to remember any of their names, came in. She bowed to Santana and went to her dresser, pulling out all sorts of garments. Santana watched her, curling her lip upward when she tripped a little over the hem of one of the dresses.

"Don't bother with that one." Santana snapped. "I'll not wear a dress that has your muddy footprint all over it." The servant apologized too many times for Santana to care. She simply rolled her eyes at the incompetence of her servants.

Once she was dressed, she walked down stairs where her father and mother sat at the dining table. Her father looked up, surprised by her formal attire.

"Going someone, my princess?" He asked.

"To visit the prince, of course." Santana said. Her mother stood up and carefully studied her before nodding in approval.

"So early? You haven't even eaten breakfast yet." The Duke remarked, looking at a clock. "You seem to spend more time over there than you do at home."

"Let her be." The Duchess said curtly. "Who are we to stop her if she wants and can spend time with His Highness?" Her mother smiled diabolically. "Especially in his time of need."

"I have no objections of course." The Duke quickly corrected.

"Then I will be off. The roads will not be easy after the storm." Santana walked over and kissed her father on both cheeks. She didn't bother with her mother but her mother hardly cared. She watched in satisfaction as Santana walked outside. Things were finally coming together. It wouldn't be long now before a royal wedding would be the center of her attention.

It was muddy out and the fur around the horses' hooves were already dark with mud when they marched up to the steps. The carriage pulled up close so that Santana only needed to step in. The driver closed the door and her parents watched as it circled back around and vanished around the corner.

Santana found that she'd developed the same trait as her father. She found that she couldn't stay awake for very long when the carriage rolled along at a steady pace. Combined with the humidity, she was soon fast asleep, her head nodded down so that her chin almost touched her chest. An hour passed and still Santana dozed. She was rudely awoken when the carriage screeched to a halt. Someone yelled at them from the outside and Santana stuck her head out.

"Not this way, sir!" A man, primarily bald in the front with very long scraggly hair in the back ambled towards them. "The bridge is in no condition to be crossed! Last night's storm has flooded the river, it is dangerous to go this way."

"We are on our way to the palace!" The carriage driver explained.

"I wouldn't let you pass even if you were on your way to Heaven's gate, sir." The bridge tender replied. "If you turn around now and take the northern route, it'll bring you by another bridge. The rain was not as bad up north, I imagine the river should be lower." The carriage driver looked back at Santana who frowned in displeasure. Was it really worth the trouble to spend another hour or so traveling just to spend some time with a Prince. His proposal was assured, she needn't bother herself further.

"Take us up north." Santana ordered. The carriage driver urged his horses to turn around and they were off again. _This cannot bode well._ Santana couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible loomed in the near future.

* * *

Brittany's mother awoke to the loud sound of a pot lid clanging on the floor. She heard Brittany's voice from below, apologizing to the landlord for the ruckus. She sat up and stretched. She could not understand how Brittany slept on the floor night after night, her whole body hurt from sleeping on the hard ground. She descended the narrow stairwell.

"Good morning, mother!" Brittany waved. She had a basket in hand, ready to go out and stand by the side of the road, just as her mother found her. Her mother watched her with a sad expression.

"You work too hard." She noted quietly. Brittany shook her head to disagree.

"I like it, mother. It keeps me occupied. I can't imagine sitting around idly, I would be bored to death." Her mother sighed and took the basket from her. "I will stand with you." Brittany excitedly linked arms with her mother and the two walked to the dirt road. It was still damp and the ground was soft, so much so that her mother had to lean against her for support so she didn't slip. But once they were by the wall leading into town, they rested against it.

"You do this every day?" Her mother asked.

"Most days." Brittany replied. "I help out the town tailor every so often. In the winter I help out at the local tavern." Her mother marveled at how capable Brittany was at forging a life. But all she did was work which left no room for anything else, including finding a husband. But after what happened last night, she could tell that her daughter was in no hurry.

They stood by, chatting about home life. Nathan had made a full recovery and was just in the throes of turning from a boy into a man. He'd taken a liking to a nearby farmer's daughter and started learning how to duel from the old weapon smith.

"That girl stopped by once and your brother, Lord help him, he did not know how to behave himself. He was in the middle of tapering the metal and the instant she walked in, his hammer slipped so badly he wound up bending the metal in half!" Brittany laughed aloud, imagining how badly the smith must've scolded him after that, perhaps even in front of the young girl for further embarrassment. It was good to hear that her family was doing well, even her father seemed better. Since her return, he'd gotten healthier, as if the weight on his chest had been lifted and he'd been given a new reason to continue living. Her mother spoke of him with a tenderness Brittany admired.

The clouds parted within the hour but the wind picked up and Brittany placed her hand over the flowers to prevent them from scattering. The roads were probably too muddy for most travelers; indeed they hadn't seen a single one since the morning. But Brittany waited patiently, chatting amicably with her mother.

"Someone's coming." Her mother pointed down the road and Brittany turned to look. A carriage approached them from a distance and by the looks of the horses, it was someone of great prominence. Brittany pulled out a pink rose and waved it in the air, hoping to catch the carriage driver's attention. But she couldn't help but feel as though she'd seen those horses before.

It wasn't long before the carriage was close enough for the driver to recognize Brittany. A second after he realized who she was, Brittany too remembered his face.

"Miss Brittany!" He brought the carriage to a halt and Brittany's arms dropped in shock. "I cannot believe my eyes! It is you!"

"I-" Brittany began but her gaze was transfixed on the carriage window. She hoped it was no one she knew. She would've even been happy if it had been the Duchess, Her Grace always ignored her and it would be no different. Anyone but -

"Why have you stopped?" She hadn't heard that voice in a year but it hadn't changed. Brittany took a step back. Santana pulled back the curtain and stuck her head out, glaring at the carriage driver. Brittany dropped her basket.

"Your flowers!" Her mother exclaimed but her words fell on deaf ears.

"Look who it is, Miss!" The carriage driver said, pointing to Brittany. Brittany wished desperately to disappear. She would've given anything to be invisible. But Santana turned her glare to where he gestured. Outwardly, her expression did not change but Brittany saw pure disbelief in her eyes. Brittany did not know what to do, should she bow? Should she pretend not to recognize her? Santana's jaw suddenly tightened as anger flooded her body. Her eyes narrowed. Her hands shook upon seeing Brittany. She'd never felt hate and shock so strong in her life. Brittany on the other hand looked terrified of Santana.

"Out of the way, _peasant_." Santana said in a low and dangerous voice. Her voice dripped venom and scorn. "And you," She hissed to the carriage driver. "How dare you stop? You stop when I order you to." The carriage driver opened his mouth to protest, to point out that this was the servant she treasured a year ago. But something in Santana's eyes made him silence himself and urge the horses on. Santana pulled her head back in and her nails dug into her palm as she shook with rage.

Brittany stood transfixed. Tears welled up in her eyes. She hadn't expected that. She knew Santana must've been hurt but nothing had prepared her for _that_. It was pure animosity. Brittany bent down to help her mother gather up the flowers that quickly flew off with the strong wind.

"Are you alright?" Her mother asked, noticing her distracted and pained expression. Brittany snapped back to attention and shook her head.

"I'm fine, mother." She lied. _I am. I deserved that._ But this time she could not lie to herself. Santana clearly hated her and there was no recovering from that.

Santana sat in the carriage and collected her thoughts. She was wide awake and still paralyzed by her encounter. Seeing Brittany brought back the full force of her heartbreak and she struggled to regain control of her emotions. _I was right._ She thought as she inhaled and exhaled forcefully. _Yesterday had been a bad omen._


	17. Part 2: Endings and Beginnings

Santana's visit was quieter than usual. Prince Finn found it both pleasant and unnerving. Santana, for better or worse, usually prattled on about his responsibilities, how he needed to stop grieving for his father, how he had a country to take care of. But today she just sat at the window staring out. Sometimes her expression turned forlorn and the in a flash her eyes would narrow and her lips would pull tight and Finn was afraid of approaching her. It seemed that a storm brewed inside her mind and he wasn't eager to delve in the middle of it. He watched his father as his chest barely rose up and down. He used to cough and Finn hated the abruptness of it. But now his father only breathed through barely open lips. He looked paler and gaunter by the day. Finn thought bitterly how it was possible to have so much power over the lives of his people and yet hold no power over his own father's life.

An hour passed and Santana still said nothing. He glanced at her troubled expression and took the rare moment to study her. He'd known her since they were both babies. She'd grown up to be beautiful, that he could not dispute. And he knew that it would please his father to marry her, especially given how close his father was with Duke Lopez. His advisers were split on the matter. Some wished he would marry Santana, some wished he would look outside the country for a more equal union. But neither were options he liked. He didn't delude himself with dreams of marrying the woman he loved, as a prince it was hard to find someone of equal standing and even less likely that he would like the woman. But it still disheartened him that he didn't have options. He looked to Santana, whose eyebrows were knit together in thought. He would rather marry Santana than a stranger.

"Is Duke Lopez coming today?" He asked. Santana started and stared at him as if she did not recognize him. He gave her a weak smile and then glanced at his father.

"Duke...oh, my father." Santana shook her head and focused. "Has it been a week?"

"No...but...my father isn't getting any better." Finn said dejectedly.

"My father did all he could in the early days of His Majesty's sickness. Only time and God will tell if he recovers." Finn sighed and his shoulders sank. It was true, in the early stages of his father's illness, the Duke spent night after night in the palace. But as time went on, it became apparent that nothing the Duke did helped. Duke Lopez left one day, silently and solemnly, disappointed in himself. He promised to visit weekly to check up on the King but Finn saw see the hopelessness in the Duke's eyes.

"So he can't...he can't do any more?" Finn asked. His big brown eyes sparkled with tears he was too proud to shed and Santana felt sorry for him. He'd already lost his mother early on to disease and now he was about to lose his father. For once she did not see him as a stepping stone or a prince, she saw him as a scared little boy terrified of being left all alone. She knew that feeling all too well when Brittany...

Finn cleared his throat and looked away. He turned all the way around and rubbed his eyes, trying to hide his weakness.

"Perhaps you should go." He suggested. "I...I need to attend to matters, political matters." Santana stood up but not to leave. Rather than do what the Prince ordered, she defied his suggestion and took her place beside him. He looked up at her and she could see that the undersides of his eyes were wet with tears. But she did not sneer at him. Her heart was in too much turmoil to be hardened and she needed the comfort just as much as he did. She knew it was highly inappropriate but she ran her hand over his head, through the unkempt dark hair. He was startled by her gentleness but when she did it again, he realized just how much he missed having someone comfort him. He wasn't sure if it was a ploy to win his heart but he didn't care. He leaned into her side while she stroked his head. If she showed this sort of compassion towards him regularly, he would not mind marrying her.

* * *

It was a good thing that Brittany's mother went downstairs to check on Brittany when she did. Brittany had been gone a long time, presumably to fix lunch as usual. But after a long time, longer than normal, Brittany still had not returned. Her mother went downstairs, past the sleeping old man and into the kitchen. The instant she opened the door thick black smoke escaped out of the room.

"Brittany!" Her mother called. Brittany jumped in place and, realizing that the food was quite literally on fire, threw it into the wash bin where it let out a loud, angry hiss as the fire went out.

"God damn it!" Brittany cursed as she quickly opened up all the windows in the kitchen to let out the smoke.

"Do not take the Lord's name in vain!" Her mother scolded. Brittany bit her lip as she fanned the smoke out.

"Sorry, mother."

"What on earth were you doing?" Her mother demanded. "You might've burned the whole house down!"

"I was...I was thinking, mother." Brittany replied. She did not mention what she thought about – brown eyes that captivated her soul, lips like rain clouds, dark, soft, a little damp and tasting of raindrops, fingers like silk when it ran along her skin. Her mother sighed.

"How did you manage to survive until now, my absent minded but lovely daughter?" Her mother asked. She walked over to the basket of fresh vegetables and picked out a few better looking ones. She set it down on the table and picked up a cleaver meant for meat, but it was the only cutting implement available. She set off chopping up the carrots and onions into small bits while Brittany stared longingly out the window.

_"Out of the way,_ peasant_." _The words stung more than the tears in her eyes did. She sniffed and quickly glanced at her mother to make sure the woman was focused on chopping vegetables and unaware of her daughter's turmoil. Her mother was wrapped up in deep concentration and Brittany turned back to the window. The sky had cleared up and warm sunlight engulfed the room but did nothing to lift Brittany's spirits. She wondered if God was laughing at her. Maybe He was mocking her for doing what she thought was the right thing. How else could she explain Santana's sudden appearance in a town so far removed from the main road?

"Finished." Her mother said, dumping the vegetables into the pot to make vegetable soup for lunch. Brittany had originally planned to roast the vegetables but her previous attempt had almost set the house on fire. She did not have the money to buy more and was glad her mother turned to soup. It would last her at least a few days. Brittany stood up and wiped her hands on her apron.

"I didn't mean to make you work." Brittany apologized. Her mother waved her hand in front of Brittany's face dismissively.

"One never means for a mother to do anything, but she is always glad to cook for a daughter." They sat down together and Brittany watched the flames turn the iron pot bright red as it burned brightly. Her mother watched her daughter. She had not been the same since that noblewoman drove by. She was too busy trying to pick up the flowers that Brittany dropped but the look on both of their faces, the shock of recognition, did not escape the observant eyes of her mother. The two clearly knew each other. Even though she'd never seen the Duke Lopez nor anyone from the Lopez family, something told her that the woman was Lady Santana Lopez; the girl who had saved her daughter.

"You never explained why you returned home the first time." Her mother said. Brittany looked down, ashamed at the memory of being kicked out by the Duke.

"I came home simply because I missed it." Brittany lied.

"Coming home simply because you missed it is something a cat does when it gets hungry. You looked like you came home carrying the world's burden."

"I'd rather not..."

"Did something happen? You came home with both Nathan and Mary, the latter having been taken from us by the Count. I can't imagine he would've let her go so easily. Tell me the truth, Brittany, what happened?" Brittany let out a sigh. She'd avoided so many details in telling the story before but her mother was too perceptive to believe that Santana simply walked in, ordered the Count to let her sister go and that was that – especially since Nathan came back telling his side of the story which ended in near death. Powerful as the Duke was, it would've been stupid to think that Santana had nearly enough political clout over Count Baste to walk away unscathed. She nodded and told her mother the entire story; from Santana insisting that she go along with her to the Count's estate, to how she physically defended Brittany and Mary from further harm, to the Duke rushing in at the very last minute and saving the day. Her mother's expression changed over the progression of the story, evolving from understanding, to pleasant shock, to horror and finally sympathy as Brittany finished her story with the Duke relieving her of her duty. At the end, her mother took a deep breath to digest everything.

"It is a fantastic tale, one I would hardly believe had it not come from you." Her mother said after a moment of composure. "But after all that she has done for you, why would Lady Santana hate you so?" _It is much more than that._ Brittany thought. But she could not tell her mother about what happened.

"I would be angry too if I was led around the country by some servant girl who jeopardized everything my family and I worked for." Brittany replied. Her mother sighed and shook her head.

"It sounds like that was the furthest thing from her mind." Her mother observed. _You are right, mother._ Brittany agreed silently. _And that's why I had to leave as I did._

After lunch, Brittany went out by the road again. Her mother retired to her room, feeling faint after a long day in the sun. Brittany had grown used to it, so she happily went back to her post. It wasn't an hour before a familiar figure appeared in the distance. Brittany squinted against the sun. She recognized the brown coat and the slightly underfed chocolate frame of the horse. But sure as she was of who it might've been, she waited until he drew closer before waving to him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Abrams!" She greeted cheerily.

He stepped down from his horse, smiling when he saw her.

"Ever at work, I see." He laughed.

"As long as I live." Brittany replied. "May I assume you will want to buy flowers again?"

"Yes you may." He said with a nod. "My wife loved the flowers. She told me to bring more for our dining room should I pass by again." He opened his arms out. "And here I am." Brittany set the basket down and began preparing a bouquet. Mr. Abrams watched her work, admiring her diligence in the face of the sweltering heat. Her disposition was just as bright as the overbearing sun and seeing her brought a smile to his face, no matter how grave the situation. When she was done, she handed the bouquet back to him and he in turn dropped several coins in her open hand. He almost laughed when he saw a carnation at the center of the package.

"For luck?" He asked. She nodded enthusiastically. He sighed and looked down the road. He was in no hurry to get to the palace. It would only be more of the same; the prince and his wavering opinions and no sight of the king.

"Was your last visit successful?" Brittany asked. Mr. Abrams' smile dropped and he took off his glasses and wiped away the sweat beading under his eyes.

"Not as successful as I would've hoped." He admitted with a smile more directed towards the ground than Brittany. He looked up at her concerned expression and grinned. "Seeing you lets me dare to hope for the better." Brittany turned away, red from the compliment. Mr. Abrams laughed at her embarrassment, though more out of surprise than anything else.

"A woman as handsome as you should be used to praise, am I incorrect?" He asked.

"Mr. Abrams, what would your wife say if she saw you now?" Brittany demanded though her cross temper was markedly faked. "I would think she'd be most displeased." Mr. Abrams laughed again.

"She would most definitely scold me, no doubt, if not land a few blows on my head." He said. He looked dreamily back at the path he came. "But she also knows how wonderful a woman she is. I would bear my father disowning me all over again for her." Brittany blinked in surprise. She knew he was married, but to hear that his marriage was not approved by his father was something she didn't expect.

"Your father disapproves?"

"Disapproved." Mr. Abrams corrected, turning his focus back to Brittany. "He died earlier this month. That's why I've been visiting the king, rather, the prince."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Brittany replied automatically but she was more interested in how his father felt than anything else. "He disowned you?"

"He threw me out of the house with his own two hands." Artie said. It was a painful memory, but he smiled when he remembered it since it was still the last memory he had of his father. "I told him I had eloped with Ms. Cohen-Chang and that was the end. And as far as the courts are concerned, he has no son to carry on his title." Brittany went quiet and pensive. She imagined the Duke's reaction if Santana informed him that she was in love with her servant girl. Losing her father's title would've been the least of her concerns. The two of them faced a society that would rather see them hanged than kiss.

"Was marrying her worth it?" Brittany asked. In response, Mr. Abrams smiled shyly and nodded and no matter what the logical part of Brittany's mind said, a glimmer of doubt lingered in her mind. She frowned and her eyebrows knitted together. Mr. Abrams noticed and he cleared his throat.

"I didn't mean to upset you. I hope you'll forgive me for burdening you with the past." He apologized. Brittany shook her head.

"You've given me much to think about. I..." Brittany shook her head and smiled. "What am I saying, I'm taking up too much of your time." Mr. Abrams shot her a concerned look but she was right. He needed to be on his way.

"Whatever your situation is," he began. "I'm certain it will turn out for the best." He hopped on his horse and waved to Brittany as he rode off. Brittany waved until he turned around. She leaned against the wall, her mind troubled by their conversation. How easily her resolve wavered in two days simply by talking to two people who knew nothing of what she'd done.

* * *

The Marquess Fabray had business to attend to in a small town close to the castle. He was to oversee what had become of his investment in a small patch of seemingly fertile land that he had purchased from the quickly declining Karofsky family. The Marchioness Fabray went along, though they left Quinn at home to her music lessons.

The Marchioness turned up her nose at the smell. No matter how good the land, surely there was no reason to own a piece of property so close to the marshes. But, she argued with herself, it was close enough to the palace that they could make several trips, on the pretext of checking up on their land, without it being obvious that they were pandering to the royal family. The Marchioness thought to bring Quinn along, on the off chance that they did have the time to visit the castle but Quinn adamantly protested.

Perhaps it was a good thing that she did not come along. The Marchioness browsed the shops while her husband oversaw the tenants working the land. It was when she browsed a low quality jeweler's shop that she overheard a particularly nasty piece of gossip.

"I saw the Lady Santana Lopez enter the castle. My niece working there informed me that she is to stay the night! She requested very early that she bed housed, as the roads are not fit for travel." A large, curly, white haired woman said rather loudly to the jeweler. The Marchioness felt her hair stand on end.

"Did the Prince turn her out?" The jeweler asked.

"I dare say he did not!" The woman replied. "I suppose that does it then, we have a new Queen in the making." The Marchioness could not bear it any longer. Though she had not heard much, she had certainly heard enough. She stormed out of the shop, much to the owner's distress and waited outside until her husband was finished with his duties. For much of the ride home, she remained silent, despite her husband's inquiries as to the quality of her day. She seethed, thinking about how Santana Lopez had somehow bested her daughter. And the seething turned to anger when she thought back to the past year and how Quinn did nothing to stop it.

Quinn was in the study reading a novel when her mother casually walked in. Quinn's eyes flicked up briefly to study her mother's expression. Her mother's face was unmoving and she knew something was wrong. The air her mother exuded filled the small study with disappointment.

"May I help you, mother?" Quinn asked. Her mother sat in a chair opposite the room and simply stared at her. Quinn knew it was because she was coming up with the sharpest words she could think of. She paid her mother no mind and turned the page.

"I was in town today." Her mother finally spoke.

"Really? And how was it, mingling with the poor folk?" Quinn asked.

"You could learn a thing or two from them." Quinn scoffed and set down her book. She eyed her mother icily.

"And what, pray tell, could I learn from them?"

"Many things." Her mother replied. "For instance, I learned that Lady Santana is spending more and more time at the castle. In fact, she is to spend the night. Pray tell, why are you not taking her place?"

"It isn't worth my time, mother, to chase after a man I cannot have." Her mother stood, clearly annoyed by her indifference.

"What happened to you, Quinn? Not long ago you were confident that the Prince would take you as his wife. Now...now you sit and do nothing while an unworthy girl steals him from you."

"I won't stand around and be lectured by you, mother." Quinn slammed the book down on the table beside her and glowered. "You have no idea what I've done, the lengths I went to!" Mother and daughter glared at each other. Finally her mother stood down.

"Well." Marchioness Fabray said. "It seems like you are content in your defeat. I suppose we will have to _settle_. Do not forget, your father has arranged a dinner party tonight, please make yourself acceptable before then." She left the room without so much as looking her daughter in the eyes. The minute she left the room, Quinn grabbed her book and threw it across the room in frustration.

* * *

Santana found herself sitting in the throne room on the cold stone steps. She and Finn had stayed like that, with her stroking his hair and him silently weeping into her dress. After much of the crying had subsided, she dropped her hand and moved away, smoothing out her dress in the process.

"If you would deign to let me do so, I would like to stay, not just for the day, but for the night as well." She whispered, hardly believing that she had such boldness in her.

"Of course, My Lady." He cleared his throat. "Guards! Guards!" Two finely clad guards entered the room and Finn gestured to Santana. "Please inform the servants that Lady Santana will be staying the night. Tell them to make the appropriate accommodations, and that she should be treated with the utmost care." The two guards bowed and left the room to deliver the message. Santana looked back at Prince Finn, who looked as though he was about to cry again. This time, she found that her bravery was lacking and instead chose to leave the room.

Which was why she found herself sitting on the steps of the throne room. She wanted nothing more than to bash her head against the wall until the memories of Brittany were beaten out of her mind but she knew it would look more than undignified if someone were to catch her. Instead, she thought long and hard their meeting. It was as if fate or God or something conspired against her to bring them back together. So many events had to happen at once, the bridge being flooded, Brittany staying in that particular village, Santana visiting the Prince that particular day instead of waiting.

She did not notice the soft footsteps of a certain man entering the room. He noticed her torn expression and pondered whether or not to intervene. In the end, just as she looked like she was in her most tumultuous state of thought, he coughed to get her attention. The sudden noise startled her and Santana stood up.

"May I help you?" She asked. He looked vaguely familiar but she could not quite remember where she'd seen him, though she felt it had been fairly recent.

"My sincerest of apologies, My Lady." He bowed. "I did not mean to interrupt anything."

"Not at all." She responded automatically. He looked anxiously towards the empty throne and just as he did so, Santana placed where she had seen him. In fact, it had been just a day earlier. It was Mr. Arthur Abrams. As soon as she remembered, she realized what must've brought him there.

"The prince is...he is occupied at the moment." She explained.

"Ah." Mr. Abrams said. He shifted his hat in his hands nervously. "Do you have any idea when he might be available?"

"He is looking after his father today." Santana replied. "As I understand, he wishes not to be disturbed."

"Unfortunate." Mr. Abrams muttered. "Well, I apologize once again for bothering you, My Lady. Uh, if it's not too much trouble, could you relay to the Prince that I have come to inquire about my father's title? I will return tomorrow to see an audience with him." He turned around and took a step to leave.

"Wait." Santana did not know why but the word escaped her mouth. "Perhaps...perhaps he will return."

"I cannot be away from my house too long, there is still much to be done, especially since I have neither my father's name nor wealth." Mr. Abrams replied. "I simply do not have the luxury of waiting." He started for the door again. As he turned, Santana caught a glimpse of a white flower tucked away in his pocket. It was the same white carnation she saw yesterday. But she'd seen them somewhere else too. She'd seen them floating around Brittany as the wind blew them every which way.

"Mr. Abrams." She called out. He stopped again.

"Yes, My Lady?" He asked respectfully.

"I did not think you one for flowers." She said. He looked down at his coat pocket and pulled out the white carnation.

"I am not, Lady Santana. But I feel happier whenever I see these." He twirled it in his fingers. "A very special young lady sold this to me. She said that white carnations represent luck." Santana dared not ask what the young lady's name was, but the way fate played with her, no doubt it was Brittany.

"I see." She said.

"She brightens up my day whenever I visit. Had I not been married already, I might've thought to pursue her, though I doubt she would've taken me. She seems the type to have been scorned once and won't be fool enough to be hurt twice." He looked up and away, laughing out of embarrassment. "Look at me, babbling on and on. Please, you'll have to excuse me, it's these long hours of riding. A man can lose himself in his thoughts." Santana clenched her fists as she listened to him talk about Brittany. Scorned once? How dare she put on the air that _she_ had been hurt? She was the one who hurt Santana. Perhaps it was guilt, then, that Mr. Abrams saw. Santana sincerely hoped so.

* * *

Quinn knew something was wrong when she entered the dining room. Her parents, feeling that it would help hasten any courtship, called a small dinner party of high ranking nobles. Most importantly, they called Duke Harrington, whom Quinn's mother insisted was the next best thing after the Prince. Quinn cringed when she heard he was invited. Their last encounter hadn't escaped Quinn's mind but she smiled and nodded like a good daughter should. She dressed appropriately for the party, meaning that she aimed to catch the Duke's attention, for better or worse.

As she prepared to make her entrance, she could hear the dining hall abuzz with energized chatter. She took a big breath and pushed the doors opened. Heads turned in her direction, which was normal, but there was usually a period of silence as she made her way into the room. This time, the chatter became almost inaudible, and cruel smiles dotted the lips of many guests. Quinn knew something was wrong but she did not know what it was. She caught the eye of Duke Harrington. The mere sight of him, the long dark sideburns framing his strong jaw, the rings that sparkled on his left hand, it made Quinn want to run away but she could not, especially not with her mother and father's eyes on her. She would do what must be done. She quickly approached him. Everyone watched as she smiled at him and interrupted his conversation with another young woman that Quinn did not recognize.

"Your Grace, I believe this is the first you've set foot in my father's estate. Will you not walk with me and get acquainted with your surroundings?" Quinn shot a satisfied glance around the room, letting everyone know that he was already taken.

"I believe dinner is about to be served." He said gesturing to the servants putting food on the table. Quinn frowned. He seemed rather aloof, as if he did not care to speak with her. A heavy feeling set in her stomach.

"Won't you sit by me then, Your Grace?" Quinn offered.

"I'm terribly sorry, Lady Quinn, I have already promised some of my new acquaintances the pleasure of my company. But perhaps we could tour the estate later?" He replied. The woman beside him giggled and Quinn shot her a dirty glare. _I could have you bought and serving me if I wanted_, she thought harshly. But what troubled her more was the way the Duke was acting. Instead of pursuing it further, she chose to stand down. _His pride is hurting_, she decided, _from the last time. I must give him a moment to remember that I am the most beautiful girl in this room and he will be back in the palm of my hand_.

Everyone sat down for dinner and Quinn eyed the Duke suspiciously. He made no eye contact with her and ate and chatted with the lady next to him. She would confront him after, perhaps apologize again for the actions of that idiot. But by the time the second course came out, the Duke cleared his throat and stood up.

"If I may, Lord Fabray, I would like to make an announcement. Please excuse me for interrupting such a pleasant dinner." Marquess Fabray was taken aback by the sudden interruption. He looked towards Quinn who was equally as stunned. Her mother shot her a look that asked if he had proposed. Quinn shook her head slightly to let her mother know that she did not have an idea what Duke Harrington was doing.

"I would like to announce my engagement." He went on. Quinn sat completely frozen to the spot. Surely he did not mean to ask for her hand in front of so many people.

"Engagement? Your Grace what do you..." Marquess Fabray began and stood up as well but the Duke ignored him.

"Today I have found my wife. I do not think that I can bear to be without her." He looked at Quinn who sat back shocked speechless. Was this way of getting her back? Announcing his engagement with her in a way that she could not refuse? And then he turned to the lady beside her. Quinn's mind did not register what he was doing when he took her hand and made her stand up. "The Countess and I are to be married." Everyone in the room applauded politely except the hosts of the dinner party. Quinn felt all the blood drain from her face and the applause came from a distance in her head. When did this happen? Just the other day he was all too eager to have her. And a Countess? How could he bear marrying someone so much lower than she?

And then it hit her. Not only had she lost a potential husband but she also made a fool of herself in front of all the guests by pursuing the Duke so vehemently when it was clear that everyone in the room knew that he was to marry to Countess. How they must've laughed when she asked him to sit next to her. The food in her mouth turned to ash and she wanted to spit it out in disgust.

"I offer my congratulations." The Marquess had no choice but to say. Her mother smiled thin-lipped at the announcement and had gone just as pale as her daughter. "Please, let me offer the best wine." The Marquess did everything in his power to save face but Quinn knew that nothing could be done.

She did not eat much and did not listen to the droning of the guests around her. She stared at the Duke who kissed his wife-to-be's hand. She could feel her mother's eyes on her, demanding how she had lost two powerful potential suitors in one day. When dinner finished, the Duke got up from his seat and strolled leisurely over to where Quinn stood. Quinn wanted to take a knife and cut the smug smile off his face.

"You promised me a stroll around the estate, did you not?" He asked loud enough for the other guests to hear, and therefore loud enough for Quinn not to refuse. She smiled thinly at him and looped her arm in his. She hated the looks they got, especially from the Countess, who almost laughed at the ridiculousness of their pairing. They walked out of the dining room and down the hall, passing a row of new paintings being hung by the servants. Quinn loathed being next to him and wanted to scream at him but she remained composed, as a lady should. She wanted to demand why he had been so intent on her not so long ago and suddenly, he was to wed someone inferior. But she could not, she could not show that she had been humiliated. Yet the Duke seemed to know exactly what she was thinking and spoke first.

"Surely you did not think you have any chance with me?" Duke Harrington sneered. "After what your little stable boy did to me?" Quinn let go of his arm and moved to the opposite wall. His eyes showed no compassion, just the need to get revenge.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace. He is mad..."

"Mad as he may be, he needs to be punished. He assaulted a noble, he should have his hands cut off. And yet you defended him. You would defend a peasant rather than me. I must say you hurt my pride, to think you valued him more than me."

"I do not, Your Grace!" Quinn said, elevating her voice. "I did not want to burden you with any death on your hands."

"The death of a stable boy stains my hands no more than killing a stag." He replied. "I made my decision then, as did you." He looked at her fuming figure with pity. "Please, do not embarrass yourself anymore than you have tonight. It is rather unbecoming of a lady such as yourself." He turned, flipping his coattails up and marched back into the dining room. Quinn leaned against the wall, fighting back tears of rage at her pathetic situation.

She eventually made her way back to the dining area where she sat in a corner, unmoving until the guests departed. Her mother and father passed her on their way to bed, eying her with a mixture of pity and disappointment. Her father opened his mouth, perhaps to say something to comfort her, but nothing constructive came out.

"Sleep well." He said in a defeated tone. Her mother, turned her nose up at her daughter and followed her father upstairs. Quinn watched the dying embers in the fireplace, reminiscent of her own situation. She thought about what she had done wrong, how she could've lost both the Prince and the Duke when she almost had both.

_Puck..._Yes, that was it. Puck had ruined everything. If he had not existed, none of this would've happened. If he hadn't fallen in love with her, he wouldn't have ruined her life. Dwelling upon this, Quinn stood up and grabbed a knife from the dinner table. She marched outside, contemplating taking a carriage but she did not want anyone to know where she'd gone. She walked along the road using what little moonlight showed. It was just enough for her to see where she was going. She would have her revenge tonight.

* * *

Santana took a stroll around the palace to clear her thoughts. It was getting too dark to be outside but it wasn't that much lighter inside. Torches lined the long, nearly empty hallways, casting long and eerie shadows on the stone floor. Santana would've been a little frightened had it not been for the guards standing at either end of every corridor but the way the light flickered made it look like their eyes were hollow darkness.

She counted her blessings that the Prince deigned to let her stay the night. There were two main reasons for her asking him. It would solidify her place by his side and she would not have to go back the way she came. She was certain Brittany would be there, just as she'd left her and she could not handle seeing her again. But she could not forget what Mr. Abrams had said. _She seems the type to have been scorned once..._How? Could it be that she'd fallen for another, and that that nameless man scorned her? No, she could not imagine anyone leaving Brittany for whatever reason. But she could not make sense of his words.

"I am the one who had been hurt." She hissed to herself. She looked to make sure no one had seen her talking to herself for fear the rumors of her madness would spread. But maybe it was madness taking hold of her mind. She'd endured a whole year without Brittany and yet after one glimpse everything had gone wrong.

_And won't be fool enough to be hurt twice._ Could it be that feelings still lingered in Brittany's heart. Santana dismissed the thought immediately. She would not take back the girl who had broken hers so quickly and with so few words. But it was how few those words were that threw Santana's heart into a torrent of turmoil. There had been no explanation, no justification of her reasons. An idea popped into her head that perhaps Brittany had been forced but she dismissed that just as quickly. No one knew about them, and certainly Quinn would not drive her off when she had Santana in the palm of her hand as she did. No. Brittany had done it of her own volition, that much she was sure of.

But for what purpose, Santana did not know. A small glimmer of hope clung to life inside her chest that made her nauseous to think about it. She would never feel right unless she saw Brittany and saw how she was doing. She needed the closure, to see if Brittany was doing just fine without her or if she was just as torn as Santana was.

She walked out of the gates of the castle and over to where the carriage driver slept. By now the night had fully extended to the horizon and the stars were shone brilliantly above her, clear after the passing rain. The carriage driver slept in a small house meant for temporary servants visiting with their masters and mistresses. She opened the door and coughed to announce her presence. When he did not stir, she walked over to his bed and shook him gently. He snorted and sat up.

"Take me back to the town where Brittany is." She whispered. The carriage driver blinked, bewildered by the request as he was still groggy and uncomprehending. "To Brittany." She repeated more simply.

"Lady Santana?" He asked as the words finally started to make sense.

"Please, not a word of this to anyone." She replied. He threw the thin covers off of him. He did not bother getting fully dressed, no one would be out at this hour anyway. They opened up the stable where the horses rested and brought the confused animals out to where the carriage was kept. There the carriage driver hitched them up, though it took much longer than Santana would've liked. As soon as he finished, Santana climbed into the carriage and he urged the horses back in the direction they came.

* * *

Puck was sleeping soundly when he heard someone open the creaky stable door. He jumped awake, thinking that one of the horses had someone how escaped and he looked down worriedly. Instead, he saw a dark, thing figure standing in the door way.

"Who's there?" He called out. He jumped down to the floor below and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. When they did, he thought he might've been in a dream again. "Quinn?" He could barely believe his own eyes. Quinn Fabray stood in the doorway of the stable. He broke out into a smile. "What are you doing here? You should be asleep, I thought..." His eyes dropped to the knife she held in her hands and he paled. Perhaps this dream just became a nightmare.

"You..." Quinn hissed. "You cost me everything." Puck felt his throat close and cold panic set in.

"I don't know what you mean." He croaked. Quinn let out a yell and held up the knife and launched herself at him. He instinctively put up his arms to shield his face and he cried out when the knife grazed the back of his hand, cutting sharply across his knuckles. He jumped back, ready to run but Quinn stared at the blood flowing freely from his hand.

"What are you doing?" He demanded in a high pitched voice, scared for his life. He wasn't sure what he did to anger her so but she clearly wanted to murder him. But he looked at her face and all the rage was gone. Indeed it was. The minute Quinn saw that she had hurt Puck and saw the dark blood sinking into the hay, all of her anger and rage turned into self pity and loathing. She dropped the knife and sank to her knees and sobbed. She was just so tired of doing what was right and she had even tried to kill the only man who loved her and would not hurt her.

Puck inhaled sharply at the pain but Quinn crying distracted him. Dangerous as she had been, he could not bear to see the woman he loved in so much anguish. He gently approached her, creeping ever closer and being ever alert in case she sprung at him again with the deadly implement at her feet. But when he could reach out and touch her shoulder, he decided that it no longer mattered. He slowly pulled her into a gentle embrace and was relieved when she encircled her arms around him instead of reaching down to grab the wooden handle.

"I've lost everything." She sobbed into his shoulder. Puck did not ask what she meant. Instead, he held her close and tightly and let her cry as much as she wanted. After a moment, she pulled herself away from him and looked at his concerned face. After everything she'd done to him, berated him, degraded and even caused him physical harm, he was still willing to take care of her. In her grief, she thought _perhaps he is the only man who will ever love me this way._ Puck stared deep into her hazel eyes and swallowed. He knew this tension and he recognized the way her eyes darted down to his lips. He leaned in slowly, giving her enough time to turn away or get up and go. But when she didn't, he pressed his lips against hers, tasting the tears that had trailed all the way down to her lips. A soft sob rose in Quinn's throat, perhaps of protest, perhaps of joy, but it soon died away and she closed her eyes and gave herself to his love.

* * *

The carriage driver pulled right at the opening of the large stone wall that led into town. Santana got out, wearing a thin veil over her head. The town was quiet and asleep. She didn't know if Brittany would still be up, but she very much doubted it. She had no idea where the girl was, even. There must've been a dozen or so houses, which, by any accounts was not very much but she could not check every single one of them. Yet her body did not listen to her mind and carried her forward, towards the only house whose light was still on. She felt like one of the many bugs that hovered outside the window, drawn to the light. But as she drew close, the door opened and Santana dove behind the wall.

"You work too hard, young miss! Go get some rest!"

"I'm doing quite fine!" Brittany called out. She had left the tailor's later than expected, a rich customer came in very late with a whole wardrobe that needed to be repaired by the next morning and Brittany, for a little extra pay, stayed late to help mend the torn garments. She yawned and stretched. It had been a very long night and she was ready to sleep. But her stomach rumbled. First and foremost she needed to make dinner. She walked down the road and opened the door to her house quietly, making sure not to wake her landlord. The minute Santana saw her, feelings of both anger and loss flared up in her chest. She quietly approached the house and waited. Brittany lit a lamp inside and set about kindling a fire to warm up some of the soup her mother made earlier, completely oblivious to someone watching her quietly.

Santana pulled her veil over her head as she peered through the window. It occurred to her that her actions might inspire some fright and suspicion should someone spot her but she cared not what others thought. She only cared about the girl inside as she flitted about, first getting the fire good and stoked, then setting small pot over the hungry flames. She stirred the soup enthusiastically with a large wooden spoon and brought it up to her red lips to taste.

Santana struggled, trying to understand what it was she felt. She'd spent a year trying to forget her and in one fated minute, Brittany was back in the focal point of her mind. She grasped at strands of thought, coming up with one explanation for how she felt after another but never quite coming up with an answer. Was she still in love with Brittany? Did she hate Brittany? Did she want Brittany back in her life or did she want to forget her?

Santana answered a silent "no" to all of them. She'd been hurt too long to love Brittany as innocently and passionately as she did a year ago but she could not deny that feelings still lingered. Nor could she keep away from her former servant, as if her lurking in the bushes outside of Brittany's residence was any indication. But whether she meant it or not, Brittany made it clear in her letter that she did not want Santana and that was the reason why she left in the first place. Brittany said she did not love her and judging by her smile as she skirted about the kitchen, she was doing quite well by herself. That was all Santana really wanted to see; Brittany living independently and comfortably. She could at least get to sleep tonight after seeing that Brittany had food to eat and a roof over her head.

Santana pulled the veil closer to her head as she backed up out of the bushes. Brittany ascended the steps to her room, ducking out of sight and Santana decided it was time for her to depart as well. She walked back to the carriage, where the carriage driver coughed and rubbed his hands together for warmth. Santana looked up at the window where a small light, probably from a candle, illuminated the room Brittany occupied.

"Return to the castle." Santana ordered as she got into the carriage. Just as she disappeared from view, Brittany opened the window and caught just the back wheels of the carriage as it disappeared behind the stone wall.


	18. Part 2: When One Door Closes

It was morning and the sun just barely rose above the tree tops when Quinn awoke. The first beams of light tickled at her cheek, still cool from the evening breeze. It wasn't until the sun coaxed her eyes open that she lazily opened her hazel eyes. She was unused to waking early and wondered sleepily what the light was from. Her blinds were usually drawn so as to prevent the sun from disturbing her rest. But as her surrounds came into focus, she quickly realized she was not at home in her bed.

She stared up into the faded, cobwebbed ceiling of an old wooden barn. The windows were open and the birds were singing at the top of their lungs. She felt not a bed under her but soft hay and had she not panicked upon waking, she would've found it much softer and more comfortable than even her expensive cotton bed. But she sat up quickly and looked around. She wondered if she had somehow slept walked into the barn on her estate but the horses that looked on, perhaps even with an amused expression were not familiar to her. A loud snore alerted her to another beast's presence and it resided much closer to her.

Puck lay on his stomach, with the side of his face pressed into the hay. Quinn's blood ran cold as she recollected the previous night's carnal activities. _No, no, no, no, no._ She pleaded with God for it not to be true. She could not have given him everything, not to a stable boy like him. But she recalled his rough, peasant lips on the nape of her neck, his fingers trailing her thighs and she involuntarily shivered with the memory. He took away the pain, shame and anger that she harbored and for one night made it disappear.

"No!" She yelled and stood up. Puck let out a snort and awoke, blinking until he was fully awake. Quinn went a shade paler when she remembered her parents. They would ask where she was, they would certainly question the bits of hay still stuck in her hair, no matter how hard she tried to pick them off. They would ask why she smelled of sweat and animals and there stood a chance that they would figure out she had lost the only thing that made a woman worth marrying. She could not handle being there and started for the door. On her way, she kicked something hard and looked down. It was the knife she'd brought with her. It was the only reminder that she had come to cause Puck harm for those murderous feelings fled her mind the minute he held her and kissed her.

"Quinn..." Puck scrambled to his feet. She ignored the knife and marched off towards the road. Puck stumbled in his frantic effort to follow her. "Quinn!"

"Don't call me that! I am Lady Fabray to someone as low in class as you." Quinn snapped but she soldiered on, not bothering to turn her head to say it to his face. Puck knew Quinn was scared but it nonetheless frustrated him that she was so quick to dismiss their night together.

"You weren't calling me 'peasant' last night." He shouted, stopping in his tracks. Quinn whirled on him and opened her mouth to degrade him. She expected him to be angry or hurt but what she found was just adoration and sympathy in his eyes. She could deal with people hating her, she'd dealt with it all her life - from women who scorned her beauty, from the men who wanted but could never have her, even from her own sister who looked at her with disdain after it became known that Quinn no longer pursued the Prince. Apart from her parents, she never saw that kind of unconditional love.

Puck did not follow her for very long. He walked a few steps behind her silently, like a kicked dog still clinging to his master. But when they reached the road, he stopped in his tracks. Quinn turned her head to look at him and he stared back with his intense brown eyes. But fear and self loathing kept her feet moving and she stayed fixed on her long walk back home. She knew what she looked like, her beautiful and expensive dress muddied and torn. Her mother would pitch a fit if she saw her, if she still cared. Her hair, which took hours to fix, now unraveled with every step she took and her shoes had long disappeared during her trek to the Lopez estate. She ran her tongue over her chapped lips and tasted dried blood where she'd bitten down to stifle her cries last night. She wiped the sweat and fresh forming tears from her eyes. She'd fallen so far so fast that she wasn't sure if she could fall any further.

* * *

Prince Finn was just sitting down to breakfast when Santana walked into the grand dining room. Assorted meats, fruits and vegetables adorned the area before the prince in splendor that even Santana had never seen.

"Lady Santana!" Finn stood up, knocking his napkin to the floor. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, Your Highness. My stay was very pleasant." She lied. In truth, she'd hardly slept a wink. She was up all night with her thoughts full of Brittany. The Prince gestured to the food in front of him.

"Will you join me for breakfast? Large as I may be, I've no intention of eating a feast for an army by myself." He said. Santana felt hunger, but not for food. She yearned for explanations and closeness with her former servant, something that not even the King himself could will to happen.

"No." Santana politely declined. "I fear I've lessons I've neglected. I should return home." The Prince pushed his immense chair back and walked around the table until he was face to face with her. Santana was acutely aware of the silence in the room. All eyes were on her, waiting for what the Prince would say next. Santana felt her pulse thump against her chest wildly, but more out of dread than anticipation.

"You'll return soon?" He asked. A servant just walking in dropped the silver plate she held in her hands. Finn looked back at her, then quickly corrected himself. "I mean, with your father. I fear the King's condition worsens by the minute. Just having the Duke here would be a comfort."

"Of course." Santana answered, pretending that his words did not affect her. "Anything to assuage your worries, Your Highness." She bowed her head and he watched her leave. The carriage driver waited patiently, smoking a long pipe while he sat. Santana briskly walked up to the carriage, not even waiting for him to open the door for her before she was inside. He glanced back at her. The previous night's excursion did not escape his memory. He saw how closely she watched Brittany and it did not surprise him. He'd heard all sort of rumors about the friendship the two women shared. And Santana had never been the same since Brittany had left the estate. Perhaps she wanted to go back.

"Which way should I go, My Lady?" He asked. Santana thought of Brittany briefly. It wouldn't been untrue to say that she did not contemplate the idea of seeing her again but she could not promise to herself that she would stay in the carriage and just observe.

"Go as we usually do." She replied. And just in case the carriage driver did not know what she meant, she added "The bridge should be safe by now." The carriage driver urged the horses on and Santana sat back. She'd escaped the castle and the prying, inquiring eyes of the staff. But she had to go home where memories and family lay in wait. As they turned down their normal road, Santana cast an unsure glance down the way towards Brittany's town.

* * *

The estate was not in an uproar as Quinn thought. The servants minded their own business, carrying on with the day's chores. The stable master was leading her father's prize stallion out to graze. Either her parents did not notice, or they no longer cared. Quinn wasn't sure which one she preferred.

When she walked in, one of the servants gasped at her disheveled state and quickly ran over to her.

"Miss! What in God's name happened to you?" She demanded. "Let me draw up a bath for you right away!"

"That's quite alright." Quinn said but the servant scurried off nonetheless. She looked at the clock. Her parents were probably in the dining room having breakfast. She had every intention of marching in there as she was. When she entered, her father spat his coffee out while her mother pursed her lips disapprovingly.

"Quinn! Where on earth have you been?" The question was phrased in such a manner that made it clear they had not noticed her disappearance and were commenting rather on her appearance.

"Good morning, father." She said, sitting down to breakfast.

"Get up, young lady." Her mother snapped. "You shall not dirty the furniture as you are."

"I don't think a bath will wash the shame from me, mother. I'm sure that's what you meant rather than the good earth God put on me." She replied caustically. She saw her mother's jaw tense. Her father slammed his hand down on the table.

"Don't talk that way to your mother, Quinn. Go clean yourself." Quinn defiantly stayed there for a few more tense seconds before standing up. She grabbed a pastry before she left the table, eating it in the most unlady like way. She was angry at her parents. When she needed their love, they only looked on in disappointment. The pastry turned bitter on her tongue and she threw it aside where a servant quickly scooped it up to throw away. She wiped her mouth and stormed up to her room. She flung herself on her bed and cried into her pillow.

* * *

When Santana walked in, her mother was right there to intercept her before she could escape to the confines and safety of her room. Her mother glowered with a wicked smile as she entered the grand doorway.

"Good morning, mother." She said coldly.

"Did you enjoy your stay at the castle?" Her mother asked.

"He did not bed me like a common whore, mother, if that is what you mean." Santana spat. Her mother laughed.

"Where did you learn such language? You have been around commoners too long. Don't forget that you are well above them. You will be a queen." Her mother cupped her chin in a gesture normally kind and gentle. But her mother's nails scratched her skin and Santana could smell the sickeningly sweet perfume she'd come to associate with the Duchess.

"My beautiful daughter..." The Duchess doted. "The whole country knows your name now. They'll know you as Queen soon enough."

"He's expressed little interest in me, _mother_." Santana snapped, jerking away from her grasp. But her mother could see through her lie. Prince Finn entertained no other female guests as he did Santana. The Duke walked in, hearing his daughter's voice. He embraced her warmly and she welcomed his presence.

"How was your stay, my darling?" He asked, looking at her face. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, father." She said, smiling up at him. "The Prince requests your attendance next time. The king does not fare well." The Duke's smile vanished at the idea of his dear friend slipping away.

"Of course. The next time I go, I shall stay a prolonged period of time."

"I don't see why. The King is no longer fit to rule. His advisors are already grooming the Prince to take over." The Duchess said. The Duke frowned but he forced a smile for his daughter.

"Have the servants draw a bath. No doubt you are tired. Comfortable as the castle beds are, here is where you sleep best." He said, ushering her away. Santana could sense the impending argument and she quickly dashed off to her room. As soon as she was out of ear shot, the Duke turned on his wife.

"How dare you say that of the King?" He demanded. The Duchess remained unfazed by his anger.

"Do I not speak truth?" She asked. "He has been ill for months now and shows no signs of recovering. The country and kingdom should not focus their attention on the past. Prince Finnian is the future and we should be there to support his succession."

"The king draws breath yet." He snapped. "Do not speak of this in my midst again, it is treason." The Duchess saw that she had crossed a line. She sank back and bowed her head slightly to acknowledge that what she said had been unacceptable, but only because it was treason and not because she had pushed her husband's tolerance. She would never apologize for that. And the Duke, still trapped by their tangled and bitter history, could not stand to yell at her. For all the cruel things she said and did, he could not bring himself to forgive his actions long enough to stand his ground. He turned on his heel and stormed out, intending to ride to assuage his anger. The Duchess watched him go knowing that despite his proud expression and poised posture, he was still slinking away from her as a defeated animal would to lick their wounds.

The Duchess followed Santana up to her room. She opened the door, finding Santana staring out the window.

"I do not wish to speak to you, mother." She snapped without even looking. Her mother ignored her.

"I've taken the liberty to schedule a visit to the Fabray residence for you. It has been a short while since you two have spoken. I hope that all is well with you two." Her mother said. Santana clenched her fists and teeth.

"I presume you want me to go and gloat?" Her mother laughed.

"A lady does not gloat, Santana, you should know that. No, I'm sending you there because you and Quinn are friends. And I hear Quinn has run into a bit of trouble. There is gossip all over court about how her stable boy attacked Duke Harrington, and she did nothing to punish the boy." Santana's ears perked up. She couldn't imagine Quinn not beating the boy within an inch of his life if he attacked a potential suitor. She tried to remember the stable boys that worked at the Fabray estate but she couldn't remember any boys working there. They were all fully grown men.

An unpleasant idea struck her and she went pale. It couldn't be. But all her instincts told her that it was not just any stable boy. It had to be the stable boy infatuated with Quinn.

"Very well." Santana said, too distracted to argue with her mother. "I will go to the Fabray estate tomorrow and do as you ask." Her mother eyed her suspiciously. Santana should've fought her more.

"Good." Her mother replied hesitantly. "Tomorrow afternoon then. You can travel with your father if he is going to the castle." She cast Santana another look of disbelief, suspecting that her daughter was up to something. But she could not think of what it was and left. Santana looked outside her window towards the barn. Puck had just led her father's stallion outside for him to ride. She drew the curtains closed and went downstairs, checking to see if her mother's prying eyes or menacing shadow followed her.

Puck was just sitting down when Santana walked through the open stable door. He stood up, as per his habit.

"Miss." He acknowledged, knowing that he would get a beating if he did not show respect. Santana stormed up to him, her foot hitting something hard obscured by the hay. Puck swallowed hard when she went to pick it up. She drew a knife, engraved with the unique "F" that marked it as property of Marquess Fabray. Her eyes narrowed and she held it threateningly in front of him.

"Either you stole this or the rumors are true." She hissed. Puck felt cold sweat creep up his back. "Both will get you flogged properly if you don't tell me the truth. Were you the boy who assaulted Duke Harrington." At the mere mention of the Duke's name, Puck stiffened and his nose flared in rage. He did not need to speak for Santana to discern his response.

"You idiot." She snapped. "Have you no idea what your place is? Quinn will never, ever love you, how could you even think to pursue her?"

"I protected her from his unwanted advances!" He yelled.

"Unwanted?" Santana laughed. "You do not understand at all. He is one of the highest ranking nobles in the country, the finest Quinn could ask for. He could buy and sell you a thousand times over. So how do you even think that you could be enough for Quinn?"

"Unlike you I had the courage to try." Anger removed his sensibility he had and the second the words left his mouth, he knew he would regret it. The air around them went still. Puck considered fleeing but Santana blocked the exit. She gripped the knife tightly in her hands and for the second time in less than a day, Puck feared for his life.

"What did you say?" She demanded.

"She was your friend." Puck replied, hiding his knowledge of their true relationship. He did not take his eyes off the blade. "You cared for her, and yet when she left, you did nothing to stop her." Santana brought the knife up to his face and he closed his eyes, preparing for the worst. But he heard footsteps and opened his eyes. Santana had run out of the stable, leaving the knife discarded by his feet. He sank to the ground and folded his hands over his head, at once relieved and angry that he let his temper speak instead of his head.

That night, Santana slept fitfully. Puck's words did not let her rest. Puck knew nothing of the letter or their feelings for each other. She was angry at Brittany, at her mother, at Puck. And though she did not admit it to herself, she was angry at her own lack of action. What could she have done? Brittany left because she said she did not love Santana. She did not say where she went. Was Santana to search the whole country for her? But she could not escape what Puck had said. She did not have the courage to try. She did not stand up to her mother to say that she did not want to marry the Prince and she did not have the courage to look for the woman she loved and ask her why she had left.

It wasn't that the day went by quickly, but rather Santana was too lost in her thoughts to notice the time. She did everything she could to distract herself; riding, reading, embroidering. She played the role of a lady for the entire day. It wasn't until her father entered with large bag of medical supplies that she looked up at the clock and noticed that it was time to leave. The two marched out of the house where the carriage awaited them. Santana sat opposite her father and studied him. He looked out, too pensive to fall asleep for once. He thought about the King. He'd known the King since the King was in Prince Finn's shoes; tall, lanky, unsociable and unsure how to lead his people. But he had the good fortune of seeing his father die well after he had grown into the crown. Finn was every bit as unfortunate as his father was fortunate. His mother had died in child birth and he could soon lose a father. His eyes darted over to Santana. No doubt he would want someone close to him and Santana was perfectly positioned for just that. Perhaps it was a blessing that it would be Santana. She could be there to make sure that Prince Finn's advisors did not overstep their role in helping the Prince.

"Father..." Santana began.

"Yes, my princess?" Santana fought back a sad smile at his endearment.

"Will His Majesty return to good health?" She asked. The Duke sighed and leaned forward.

"I am unsure. I have done all I can to help him. Perhaps the will to live no longer exists in the King." He said. Santana nodded solemnly. She had never heard of her father failing before. Though he had not taken patients since the King appointed him Duke, he still cured the Prince from an illness no other physician could identify. He'd brought Brittany's brother back from the brink of death.

"You were the son of a Marquess before the King appointed you Duke. Why did you decide to study medicine?" She asked. The Duke smiled at the thought, masking a slight stab that hurt his chest.

"When I was young, I caused a great deal of harm to the people around me." He said. "I was a poorly raised boy with no mother to beat me around the ears when I misbehaved. It would've gone on until I died a lonely, bitter man had I not met your mother." The image of the young man he slew in the dark alley came to the forefront of his mind, followed quickly by the picture of the Duchess's heartbroken expression as she grieved over his body. "After I met her, I changed my ways. I wanted nothing more than to save lives." _To atone for my mistakes_, he added silently. Santana listened to her father's soft voice and saw wrinkles on his face that she'd never noticed before. When he talked of her mother, his age sank in quickly. Santana had always suspected that there was something in the Duke's past that he did not like to speak of - some dark secret that he harbored but she never pried. She understood what it was like to harbor secrets she could not reveal.

It was as if the weather could predict the events to unfold. Clouds loomed overhead, warning of tragedy. Santana stepped out as the otherwise clear afternoon horizon darkened. The air was heavy with impending rain and she quickly walked up the steps to the Fabray estate.

"I will send the carriage in the evening." The Duke said. Santana waved to her father as he drove away. When she turned around, the Marchioness was hurrying to the door.

"Lady Santana!" She exclaimed. "I'm afraid Quinn is nowhere to be found, the troublesome girl. She's been missing all day." Santana blinked in surprise.

"Should I take my leave then?" Santana asked.

"No, no. Please, make yourself comfortable in Quinn's room. I'm sure she'll return soon. I told her you were to arrive at this time. She went out riding early this morning and has not returned. I would be worried for her had she not been in such a distant mood as of late." Santana smiled and nodded. Perhaps it was because Quinn knew she was coming that she disappeared. Santana certainly did not blame her. If the roles were reversed, she would've been certain that Quinn had come to boast about how comfortable the castle was, how accommodating the Prince was and how the next time they should go together to the castle. She would not fault Quinn for wanting to avoid that.

But she went up to Quinn's room and waited, though she carried little hope that the host would show up before she went home. She wasn't sure if even the rain would deter her from staying out. Santana sat down in one of the large chairs and sighed. Servants brought up refreshments for her and she sipped tea and nibbled on biscuits while she looked around. Her eyes fell on the shabby wooden door to the far corner of the room. She set her tea and biscuit down and stared. It was _that_ room.

At first Santana did her best to ignore it. She looked else where purposefully but found that the door drew her gaze. Eventually, the temptation was simply too much. She stood up and walked over, opening the door with some difficulty as the wood had swollen shut in the humidity. She stepped inside. It was smaller than she remembered. She sneezed when a cloud of dust flew up when she closed the door. She had to duck to get into the room and she imagined how difficult it must've been for someone of Brittany's height. How many times did Brittany hit her head in the morning, Santana wondered with a ghost of a smile.

She sat on the small, hard and lumpy bed. How on earth could Brittany have slept on this? The bed at her residence was so much more comfortable. Quinn did not treat her servants right, Santana thought crossly and then corrected herself. No, Quinn treated them justly, it was Santana who went out of her way to make Brittany comfortable.

How in love she once was, Santana mused sadly. She pushed herself further onto the bed, making the floorboards creek with the movement and leaned against the back wall. She rested her head against the stone and closed her eyes. The room was covered in dust, a sign that no one had occupied the room since Brittany fled the Fabray estate. She dropped her hands by her side, unaware that a small corner of parchment rested not a hair's width away from her right pinkie. She lay down, resting her cheek on her arms and stayed there until the sky turned pitch black and it was as night. She breathed in deeply, seeing if she could still smell Brittany's scent on the sheets. But there was nothing left and Santana let her left arm drop down to the ground where it swung and hit something hard. She immediately sat up, wondering what could be under the bed. She reached down and pulled out a small box, grey with dust. She blew most of it off and ran her hand over to brush it clean.

Her heart stopped.

It was a music box.

It looked almost like _the_ music box.

Santana opened up the cover and peered inside, expecting answers. But that was all it was. It was a music box that looked almost identical to the one that she gave up for Brittany.

_How long has she had this?_ Santana wondered. It wasn't like Brittany to buy expensive things unless..._Did she mean this for me?_ She set it down on the bed and wound it up, listening to the soft peal of the notes just as the first splatters of rain hit the window. Her heart had been in such confusion that she thought it may never recover and it still was but her mind was clear as it had never been in the past year. It was as if the music had cleansed her thoughts. She remembered how she'd been inexplicably drawn to Brittany that day. It was the same feeling that flowed through her body now. She needed answers, she needed closure but most of all she needed to be with Brittany, whether it hurt or not. God had brought them together once, and He had done so again. She stood up and ran downstairs. She did not want this feeling to fade, to go back to being the complacent daughter for her mother. She ran outside and into the stable where Quinn had just returned because of the rain. The two met each other's gaze and froze for a moment.

"Santana." Quinn greeted. She had hoped to stay away from the house until Santana left but the rain cut her plan short. She waited for Santana to respond with a greeting but she did not do the same.

"May I borrow your horse?" Santana asked breathlessly. Without waiting for an answer, Santana jumped up on Quinn's mare and rode off into the rain.

* * *

The Duke set himself up in the King's chamber. He lit a lamp and placed it next to the King's beside. As if responding to the light, the King coughed. It was a strong cough and the Duke whirled around, hardly daring to believe it. The King's eyes fluttered open.

"Your Majesty!" The Duke sank to his knees by his bed. The King's eyes floated over and he broke into a smile. "Your Majesty, are you alright." The King nodded weakly and coughed again, sending beads of spit and mucus into his grey beard. He looked towards the door.

"Guard..." He whispered, trying to raise his voice. "Guard..."

"Guard!" The Duke called out clearly. The door opened and a thin man walked in, wearing the royal colors. His eyes widened in shock when he saw the King looking at him from his bed. The Duke lifted the King's frail body up and placed pillows so he could see the guard more clearly.

"Send in my boy." The King coughed. The guard nodded and, abandoning all principle, ran as fast as his legs could take him. The Duke folded his hands under his chin. He'd seen this before and it was not a good sign. He'd seen many men on the brink of death, only to use the last of their strength for one last message before they died. The Duke feared and knew this to be the case. Within minutes, the Prince stormed in, nearly smashing his forehead against the low door frame.

"FATHER!" He shouted and fell to his knees, grasping his father's hand.

"Finn." His father smiled weakly.

"Father, you're alive!"

"Yes, my boy. I am." His father replied tiredly. "I haven't left yet."

"This is good, right, father? Right, Duke?" The Duke could not meet the young Prince's eyes and the boy's excited smile faltered. But denial kept him smiling, even when his tears betrayed what he already knew.

"Have you been taking care of the people?" His father asked. Finn bowed his head in shame.

"I am not a leader like you, father." He said. "But when you return, I will make sure to learn as best as I can." The King reached over weakly and could barely make it. He wanted to pat his son on his head for the last time.

"You will learn my boy." He whispered. He tired every second and the strength he found that morning waned quickly. He did not want his son to see him die a weak old man. He wanted his son's last memory of him to be as strong as he could manage, so that his son could model himself after a father who died still speaking with a clear voice.

"I'll get the servants to fetch you some food, father." Finn said standing up. Using what little burst of strength he had, the king reached over and grasped Finn's hand with both of his. Finn looked down at the skeletal, veined, thin hands of a one great king.

"Finn, you were born a King. You were born to lead these people. And you will do so whether you learn it from me or not." He said. His hands dropped and Finn watched his father dissolve into a fit of coughing.

"I'll return with food, father." Finn said and hurried out. The Duke propped his head up a little higher and waited until his coughs subsided. The King inhaled brokenly, taking little gasps instead of strong breaths. Phlegm filled his lungs and he was too weak to clear it out.

"You…you have been…like a brother." The king gasped. Life seeped out of his body.

"Please hold out, Your Majesty." The Duke said, pushing aside the chair and standing. "Your son will return shortly." The King shook his head.

"I do…not…want Finn…to watch his…father…die." The King replied. "Duke…I…I am sorry…I did not get…to see our families…join…together in…" The air leaked out of his mouth. "Duke, watch over…my boy." The very last breath left his mouth and he took none in after that. The Duke bowed his head in respect. He felt as though he had lost family and grief welled up inside him. But he was a man and he would not let himself cry. But it was a boy who ran in shortly after and it was a boy who fell upon his father's body with tears enough for the Duke. It was a boy who picked himself up with the help of the Duke and marched into the throne room where a few nobles gathered, taking shelter from the rain. When they saw him, poised to speak, they expected good news.

It was a boy's voice who shouted, "The King is dead" to an audience who fell to their knees in respect. Women wailed and men closed their eyes in silent prayer. The Duke looked over at the Prince, whose lower lip trembled but could not be seen by anyone standing below him. This boy was now a king.

* * *

The ride was difficult and Santana could barely see beyond the fine sheet of water cascading from the heavens. But fate must have helped her along the way because sooner than she'd thought, she stood outside the small town, winded from the long, hard ride and soaked to the bone. She dismounted the horse and led it to a small sheltered area where she hitched it. She then walked over to Brittany's house and stood, unsure of what to do next. She looked up at the window. The room was dark. Was Brittany up there? Was she with someone? Was she asleep? Santana blinked against the rain. Gravel crunched under her feet and she was reminded of the last time she saw Brittany. She remembered the sunset, warm on their faces. Had Brittany known then that she was going to leave?

"Come to the window." She whispered, begging someone above to hear. But this was a prayer that went unanswered. She shifted and so did the pebbles under her feet. Thunder rumbled overhead but Santana did not feel afraid anymore. She wasn't afraid of storms when Brittany was close. She feared little with her around. But she was terrified of bringing her back.

_Would she hear?_

Santana stooped down and scooped up a handful of pebbles, perhaps more than necessary and threw them at Brittany's window before logic told her to walk away. The stones were heavy on the window and Santana hoped they wouldn't be mistaken for rain. She scooped another handful and waited, hardly breathing.

The window opened and Brittany looked out. Santana's heart dropped as quickly as the gravel did from her hand. Their eyes met and they froze. Santana could see the shock in Brittany's eyes and she tried to think of anything, an excuse, to say.

"It is, um, raining." Santana said lamely. Eloquence escaped her.

"Of-of course." Brittany replied, snapping out of her petrified state. She disappeared into the house and Santana briefly worried that she might not re-emerge. But in seconds, Brittany ran quickly, the door opened and Brittany was there, her eyes still wide in disbelief. Santana walked up to the doorway. They faced each other, mindful that this was the closest they'd been in a very long while. It was as if they met for the very first time again.

"May I come in?" Santana asked, not daring to give the words any more volume than needed. It held so much weight that the air between them practically sank. Brittany knew if she turned Santana away, that it would be the last time they would speak. But all the resolve Brittany had was gone just upon seeing her former Mistress. This was why she wrote the letter, so that she would not have to gaze upon the face that she loved more than her own life.

Another round of thunder boomed overhead and Brittany thought to herself, _Isn't the Miss scared of lightning?_ She stepped aside and motioned for Santana to come in. Santana took a deep breath and took her first step inside.


	19. Part 2: Answers

The rain beat down relentlessly on the thin roof, the sound reverberating throughout the small room. A leak formed on the windowsill, creating an even closer, steady dripping noise and as the silence and time wore on, the puddle extended and flowed onto the floor where it disappeared in the cracks between the floorboards. The wind howled against the windows, begging entrance. But apart from those sounds, nothing else could be heard.

Santana and Brittany sat on opposite sides of the room in silence. They hadn't spoken a word since Brittany welcomed Santana into her small attic where Santana sat in a small wooden chair and Brittany against the wall. They refused to make eye contact, keenly aware that the situation was beyond uncomfortable and yet unable to do anything to make it less so. Santana faintly wondered why she had come in the first place but just being in such close proximity to Brittany made it clear that they had to talk, to answer each other's questions and to bring a close to their year-long torment.

Brittany could not bring herself to look her former Mistress in the eye for numerous reasons. She couldn't bear to see what expression her former Mistress held, whether it was anger, pity, or worse. She also couldn't look at Santana for another reason, that her white wet dress clung to her, bringing back the memory of Santana's naked body whenever Brittany dressed her. Her face immediately flushed and she cleared her throat.

"How is your family, Miss?" Brittany asked, though it seemed the question was more geared towards the floor than to Santana.

"They are well, thank you." Santana replied and the room fell into silence again. It wasn't that there was nothing to say, it was actually the opposite. There were too many questions in Santana's head and she couldn't find a way to ask them all without blurting them at once. Why did she leave? Did she love her when she left? How was she doing? How was her family? Had she fallen in love, taken a husband, a lover? Was she happy? Santana couldn't think which to ask first so she remained quiet until her thoughts calmed a little. She didn't know how long it would take, however, for her to be coherent enough to say anything.

Brittany, too, had far more to say than she'd like. She suspected Santana came to demand answers, perhaps to chastise her and she was prepared for any type of punishment. Their last encounter was still fresh in her mind and she prepared herself for any sudden outburst. She steeled herself against Santana's hurtful words, though she doubted how much she could stay guarded against anything Santana said or did. She'd lied for so long, not just to everyone around her, but to herself. Being within arms length to Santana only fueled the long dampened feelings within her. She could not deny it any longer, she wanted her Mistress, she had missed her terribly and she hated that she had lied to her. And she then thought of the perfect thing to say to convey what she had felt for the past year.

"I'm sorry." Brittany started when it was Santana who apologized, and not herself. She blinked in surprise and stared at Santana.

"Miss, what ever are you apologizing for?" Brittany asked.

"For last we met." Santana replied. "I was inexcusably rude to you, and I shouldn't have been." Guilt filled Brittany's throat and almost choked her reponse.

"Miss, you have nothing to apologize for." She croaked. "It...it is I who should express my regret." But she did not say much more than that. They were both aware of what Brittany meant but neither of them wanted to breach the subject. It would be admitting that it was the sole thing that occupied their minds. Brittany was just about to ask Santana if she wanted anything to eat or drink when Santana stood up.

"This was a mistake, I should go." She said quickly, moving to open the door. Brittany scrambled to her feet.

"I'm sorry!" Brittany replied.

"No, I just...I don't know what I was thinking. I thought..." Santana swallowed the lump in her throat and inhaled sharply. How could getting answers be _this_ difficult? Brittany looked so defeated then that Santana couldn't help but feel like _she_ was the one doing wrong. The other girl's shoulders were slumped and she stared at Santana with those pleading eyes of hers that she couldn't resist. But it hurt being there and not knowing.

"Don't go." Brittany begged quietly, half expecting her voice not to reach Santana's words. But they were clear as if they'd been shouted in Santana's head. _Don't go?_ She thought bitterly. _You were the one who left._

"Why did _you _go?" Santana asked. "Why did you leave?" And the dam broke. The questions spilled from her lips, uninhibited by anything. "I came to hear the truth. You left, Brittany. You left me without an explanation. If you had told me why you left, why you did not love me, this past year would not have been a torment on me as it has been. You sent a letter. I can hardly even call it that. I don't understand..." She stopped when her breath caught in her throat and she forced down the bile rising in her throat. "The past year I've been doing nothing but forgetting you. So explain to me why, the minute I see you again, I can hardly contain my need to be with you! I loved you more than I'd ever loved anyone and more than I will ever hope to love. I would've given you everything, Brittany, everything and anything you wished. So why would you leave?" With every word Santana spoke, Brittany shed a tear and by the time Santana had spoke her piece, Brittany shook in place with her inability to hinder her sobs. She had left to escape seeing Santana's pain. But here, in the confines of her small room which seemed to shrink by the second, she could see her Mistress's heart laid bare and open. She saw the damage she'd done.

"You were too kind." Brittany whispered. She half expected Santana not to hear but Santana heard her clearly.

"Too kind?" She laughed at the absurdity of her explanation and Brittany shrunk away. "How can one be too kind to the woman she loved? Tell me, Brittany, should I have abused you as Quinn did? Is that what would've persuaded you to stay?" Her words were too caustic and they both knew it was spoken from the hurt she'd harbored for so long. But it still made Brittany take a step back as if she'd been physically hit and it still made Santana close her mouth and mentally reprimand herself.

"I apologize." Santana said quickly. Had the scene been less tense, she would've found it amusing that she was the one apologizing most.

"You've every right to say what you did." Brittany responded, wiping her tears away and putting on a fake smile. "There was no excuse for what I did to you."

"Is that the truth?" Santana asked. "That there is no excuse?" And Brittany found herself at a crossroads yet again. She could've lied and told Santana that, yes, what she'd said in her letter was the truth, that she did not love Santana and that was it. But her lies had weighed so heavily on her shoulders for the past year and she could not shoulder even more burden.

"I knew about...your agreement with Miss Quinn." She whispered. Santana barely heard but when she did, it was as if she'd been struck in the stomach. "I'd accidentally overheard. So you see...I couldn't let you give that all up." Santana absorbed Brittany's confession in silence. Everything became clear, it was the answer Santana had been looking for and yet something still remained in her mind, prodding her to let her know she was not done. If she was to rest tonight, she had to get answers to all of her questions. It just so happened that this one was the hardest.

"Did you love me?" Santana's voice was barely above a whisper. Any louder and Brittany would've heard the waver in her voice. It didn't matter, Brittany heard it anyway. She was terrified of the answer, terrified that it may be "no" and knowing exactly what "yes" would entail. She was terrified of falling in love again because her heart was now as guarded as it would ever be.

Brittany knew it too. She knew that if she spoke the truth, that they could fall right back where they were before and the past year would've been for naught. And Santana was so close to being Queen...

_No more lies..._She thought. _I can protect Santana without lying._ She swallowed the fear in her throat and nodded. Santana burst out laughing. She felt relieved, happy, confused, heartbroken and mended at the same time. Brittany _had_ loved her. What they had together, no matter how brief, had been real.

* * *

News spread like fire across the towns of the King's death. Mourners gathered in the streets, openly falling to their knees for their fallen king. Women clung to their husbands for support and their husbands thought of what would become of their home in this moment of weakness. Surely their neighboring countries would see this as an opportunity to grasp power. But they weren't the only ones. In far fewer, but more sinister numbers, groups of no more than three or four at a time watched the spectacle from the darkness of the alleys. They whispered among themselves words that would be deemed treasonous to the crown. Perhaps, they said, it was time to free themselves from the monarchy.

It did not take long for the news to reach the Duchess. Being a family of importance meant that this vital information reached their estate faster than it did the sleepy towns such as the one Brittany occupied.

"My Lady!" The messenger sprinted up the steps. "My Lady!" His voice echoed in the empty halls.

"Stop yelling, I'm not old enough to be deaf." The Duchess snapped. The messenger did his best to stand up straight, winded as he might've been. He bowed respectfully and the Duchess rolled her eyes at the sight of him.

"My Lady, news from the castle." He said. "The King...the King is dead." Behind her, a pair of servants gasped aloud but the Duchess hardly flinched. It had been a long time coming in her mind and she accepted it without so much as batting an eye.

"And what of the Duke?" She asked. "Where is he?"

"The Duke is with the young prince, my lady." He replied. "And your daughter is at the Fabray estate." The Duchess pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"She should be with the prince, consoling him in his time of need." She said to herself.

"Pardon, my lady?" The messenger asked, thinking she was talking to him. She waved her hand at him dismissively.

"You may go." She said, turning around. Surely Santana had heard the news by now. The Fabray residence was closer to the castle, a messenger should've reached them. Did Santana have enough common sense to know that she should go to the prince and care for him? At first the Duchess did not worry. Santana had been brought up properly with one goal in mind. But as the Duchess walked towards the study, each step brought new found uncertainty. Perhaps Santana didn't know, perhaps she assumed that her engagement was sure. By the time the Duchess reached the study, she was no longer confident that Santana knew what to do. She turned around, flagging down one of the servants.

"Prepare a carriage for me." She ordered.

"But my lady, the driver is not here. He left with the Duke." The servant replied. The Duchess marveled at the incompetence of her staff.

"The stable boy, Noah, wasn't he supposed to be training? Well what has he done for the past year?" She snapped. The servant knew he wasn't going to win this argument, no matter how inexperienced Noah was. He bowed respectfully and left to carry out her order. It wasn't long before Puck drove the carriage, albeit rather ungracefully, to the front step. The rain beat on his head and he cursed the Duchess for waking him just as he had fallen asleep.

"To the Fabray estate." She commanded. Puck's stomach dropped when he heard that but he was in no position to dispute their destination. He only hoped that Quinn was too preoccupied for her to notice his presence.

* * *

Brittany and Santana sat in the room, isolated from the events happening outside their door. Santana thought how to proceed now that she'd heard the truth. It lifted her spirits and the world was slightly clearer again. But it would never return to that same bright world again. She'd had her heart broken, and no matter how quickly it mended, Brittany had left a scar that she would always carry with her. But at the same time, she could not dispute that something inside her flickered to life again.

"Brittany..." Santana began. "What I did back then, it was my choice. Perhaps I was naive and foolish, but there could've been other ways to protect me rather than leave." Brittany's head fell towards her chest.

"I'm aware." She admitted. "I've spent much of the past year wondering what else there was I could've done. If I could go back to that happy time, I would." She thought of her mother's words and the actions of Mr. Abrams. "I should've found a different way. If I could do it all over..." Santana looked up at that. Her heart started racing again.

"Would you?" She asked. Brittany smiled.

"Yes." Santana swallowed. They'd already talked at length of the past, but perhaps it was time to look towards the future. As much as she wanted to hate Brittany for what she did, Santana could not bring herself to walk away.

"Brittany, you must understand...I could never love you as foolishly as I did."

"I know." Brittany replied with a sad smile. Her eyes flicked up to Santana and she waited for Santana to tell her that their relationship was damaged beyond repair.

"You were my first love, Brittany. And my only." Tears welled up in Brittany's eyes at the thought of Santana never loving again. She opened her mouth to apologize but Santana cut her off. "Your words...they renewed my hope and they kindled something within me. I cannot say for certain that it is love, but no other word would fit." Brittany's head rose until her gaze was level with Santana's. She could not believe her ears. Santana offered a weak smile.

"Miss..."

"If your feelings are unchanged, then I would be willing to give our love another chance." Santana said. "This time, neither of us will lie to the other." Brittany couldn't contain her smile. Her lips parted and she grinned despite the tears of joy and relief falling from her eyes. She could not believe that Santana had not only forgiven her, but she was giving her another chance. It was as if the scene had been plucked from her most fantastic of dreams. She stood up and walked over to Santana who regarded her curiously from her seat.

"Miss...my feelings for you haven't changed since the day I met you. I've always loved you and I will always continue to love you." The words felt good in her mouth and throat. They were words she'd wanted to say for a very long time. And she was glad she did. Her heart swelled in her chest and she reached out tentatively for Santana's face. Santana didn't flinch when the tips of Brittany's fingers skirted the soft, delicate skin on her cheek. Her eyes were fixed on Brittany's, who studied Santana's face. To someone who hadn't been her closest companion for years, Santana looked unchanged. But Brittany could see how her departure had left heavy lines under her eyes and how the corners of her mouth were turned down when just a year ago, they more than often gave way to an uninhibited smile. She dropped to one knee and cupped Santana's face with both her hands.

"I am truly sorry." She whispered. Santana leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead, accepting her apology. She barely had the time to pull her lips away when Brittany reached up and planted a soft kiss on her lips. The kiss lingered for a second longer than Brittany expected. Both were surprised by Brittany's bold actions but her kiss was not unwelcome. Santana let out a surprised giggle, soon joined by Brittany's own grin. It was a start.

The Duchess arrived at the Fabray estate late into the evening. It was the Marquess's footman who received the Duchess at the door. Puck breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing his tensed up posture.

"My lady!" The footman cried, hurrying down the stairs. "To what do I owe this honor?" The Duchess brushed right past him, paying no mind to his welcome. She stormed into the estate.

"Where is my daughter? Is she here?" She demanded.

"I have not seen her, my lady." He replied.

"She left." Quinn spoke from the top of the stairs. She descended, dressed only in a simple shirt. The Duchess's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"And where might she be now?" The Duchess asked. Quinn shrugged, reaching the bottom stairs.

"She simply took my horse and left. She appeared to be in some sort of hurry, though I know not what it is." The Duchess went quiet and thought of where Santana could've gone. Could it be that she went to the castle after all? The Duchess turned on her heel. She could not be sure of it until Santana returned tomorrow.

"My apologies for disturbing you, Miss Fabray." The Duchess said though the apology was empty. Quinn bowed as the Duchess made her way outside. Just as she stepped through the doors, an idea struck her.

"Quinn, dear, I'm sure you heard the horrible news." She said spinning slowly around. Quinn's head fell to her chest in prayer for their departed king.

"I did hear the sad news." She replied.

"I'm sure Santana must've rushed off to comfort the prince." The Duchess maneuvered her words to get the answer she wanted without seeming like she was prying or concerned. Quinn shook her head.

"No, my lady, she left long before the messenger arrived with the grim news." The Duchess forced a smile.

"Well, I'm sure she must be at the castle. She can hardly stay away." Duchess Lopez made her way back to the carriage. When the door closed, the smile dropped from her expression and her jaw tightened. It was almost certain that Santana did not go to the castle. But she could not think of where else she could've possibly gone, and in this weather too. What could've made Santana brave thunder?

Or who?

The Duchess's eyes narrowed at the unpleasant thought that graced her mind. She imagined a tall, young blond peasant and it made her blood boil just thinking about it. But that nuisance had disappeared long ago, there was no way that...

"Take us home." She ordered angrily. Puck was glad that they were on their way and had just finished congratulating himself for not encountering Quinn when he saw the petite blond figure standing on the steps, watching him with surprised eyes. He looked back and nodded awkwardly. She nodded too and Puck felt a certain happiness that came with her acknowledgement. Maybe she didn't completely detest him.

* * *

Santana and Brittany chatted for a little longer, mostly about how their lives were, how their families were and what both had missed in a year. Neither of them paid much attention to what they were saying, both were too preoccupied smiling like fools and hardly daring to believe that they'd found each other and started over. Santana was just nodding off in her chair when they heard shouting outside. Brittany stood up and rushed over to the window, prying it open. Below, a man carrying a torch ran into town, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"The king is dead!" He yelled. "His Majesty has died this night!"

"What is he saying, Brittany?" Santana asked. The blood drained from Brittany's face as the man ran through town shouting. One by one doors opened and other torches joined in. The town was chattering as if it were broad daylight. Brittany turned to look at Santana who stood next to her, frozen in place by the news.

"Santana..." Brittany began.

"No..." Santana whispered. "It cannot be." Her thoughts went directly to Finn and she backed away from the window quickly. "I must go." Brittany nodded understandingly but she bit her lip unconsciously and fiddled with her sleeve; actions that did not go unnoticed by Santana. The noblewoman took a step towards Brittany and grabbed her hands.

"I go to him because he is a _friend_." She reassured. Brittany smiled unconvincingly. He was certainly a powerful friend, then, and she couldn't forget the rumors of their eventual engagement. Santana noticed her unchanged expression and she kissed Brittany quickly on the lips. "I love you." She said firmly. "No one else. But I must go. He has no one else, Brittany."

"Go." Brittany said, pushing her hands away. Santana hesitated for a moment, staring at Brittany worriedly. Would Brittany run away again? The thought of losing Brittany again rooted Santana to the spot. But Brittany merely grinned at her. "I will be here when you return."

"Do you swear it?" Santana asked. Brittany nodded.

"I swear." She responded. Santana cast another concerned look before opening the door and stepping out. Brittany paced over to the window and watched Santana exit out the front door. Santana paused half way to the stable, turning to look up at Brittany. Brittany waved at her and Santana nodded in return. She hopped onto the slightly damp horse and urged her away in the direction of the castle.

* * *

The Duke was just finishing urging all the noblemen to bed when Prince Finn emerged from his chambers.

"Your Highness." The Duke greeted. Finn remained quiet as he stared at the empty throne that once sat his beloved father. His eyes were puffy and red but he held his tears in. "Your Highness, I am truly sorry for your loss. Please, go rest. We'll talk more of this in the morning."

"Thank you, Duke, for all you've done." Finn said with a shaky voice. "My father was right placing his trust in you."

"Your father believed in you, your Highness. You will make a fine king." The Duke reassured. Finn smiled a half smile and sat down on the steps, his long gangly legs reaching more than three steps length.

"My father was wrong. Do not think I have been oblivious to the rumors. The people believe me to be indecisive, weak minded. They are right. I couldn't make a single decision in my father's place while he was ill." Finn looked up at the Duke with eyes that pleaded for him to say something. The Duke took a seat beside him. He felt sorry for the boy.

"I was there when your father first took the throne. He was every bit as reluctant as you. But he learned. You will too." It was then that Santana rushed into the throne room and found her father and the prince sitting together in a melancholic state. The Duke stood up, startled to see her at such an hour.

"Santana!" He exclaimed. She ignored him and rushed up to the prince where she dropped to her knees.

"Your Highness, I'm so, so sorry." Santana said. He offered a smile to the lady and the Duke stood up, deciding it was best to give them some time alone. He saw genuine concern in Santana's eyes, perhaps Santana could console him better than he could. When he left, Finn tried to make light of his situation, if not simply to put on a brave facade for the lady.

"They say I am to be king before the week is over." He said, forcing a smile. Santana searched his face for any true excitement over the matter. But all she saw was fear.

"You will be a fine king." She promised, taking a seat beside him. "Finer than the country has ever seen."

"I am glad you have such faith in me." He laughed hollowly. All the strength left him and he lay down on the stairs, resting his head on Santana's lap. Santana's eyes shot open in surprise but she realized he meant nothing of it except the need to be close to someone. He had very few people he could show this side to and for better or worse, Santana had become one of them. She watched as his eyes slowly closed and the events of the day finally took their toll on the exhausted prince. Santana was tired as well but she had found a loved one, not lost one and so she stayed where she was, letting Finn use her lap as a pillow. When the Duke walked in again, Santana had fallen asleep where she sat, her head bowed onto her chest and her shoulders slumped over the snoring prince. The Duke smiled at the two sleeping figures; they were children in his mind. And so much responsibility had been placed on the shoulders of these two children. He did not know what made it so, whether it was a malevolent God or the workings of a broken political system but he knew it would not be easy.

"Guard." He called softly. A stout guardsman answered his call.

"Duke?" He asked. Duke Lopez gestured to the sleeping prince.

"Get him to bed. The cold stone steps are no place for a prince to sleep." He ordered. "You may need two more to help you move him. And wake my carriage driver, tell him to prepare for the long journey home." The guard nodded and headed off to find two other men to help him move the giant of a prince. The Duke himself quietly strode over to where Santana slept. He lifted the prince's head and pulled Santana away as carefully as he could. He marveled at her ability to sleep through his actions, though it hardly came as a surprise. It most certainly had been a long day for both of them and their sleep was well deserved. He lifted his daughter in his arms, cradling her as he'd done when she could barely walk. In his mind, she was no heavier than she was then and he carried her out to where their carriage driver waited, still groggy from being woken up for the second time in as many days just to drive somewhere. But the whims of nobility were his responsibility and he reluctantly waited for the stable boy to hitch the horses to the carriage. The Duke placed Santana in the seat, carefully sitting her down.

"Take her home, she's had a long day and I do not wish to involve her in the politics that the morning brings." The Duke said. He slipped a few coins into the carriage driver's hand as an apology and the driver took it gratefully. The Duke did not watch the carriage go. He turned as soon as he closed the door and marched back up the steps of the castle. He could not sleep tonight. The departed king had entrusted him to take care of his son, and there was too much to be done before he could safely say he'd fulfilled his old friend's last request.

Puck hadn't fallen asleep yet when the carriage driver opened the door. He started, jumping to his feet when the door creaked open. He half believed it to be a murderous Quinn but was relieved when he saw the old man hobble in.

"Come help me boy." The old man grumbled. He was tired and wanted nothing more than the draw the covers over his head and sleep the entire day away. Puck wordlessly jumped down from his sleeping area and followed the old man to the carriage. He opened the door.

"Carry her in." He continued. Puck peered inside and found a deeply slumbering Santana. He looked back at the carriage driver, confused but he did not receive any explanation. Puck reached in and picked her up, bumping his head as he tried to exit the carriage. The old man opened the giant doors and Puck stumbled inside, his eyes still unused to the pitch black of the house. All of the other servants were asleep and the lights had all been put out. Puck fumbled, trying desperately not the drop the lady.

"I tell you, boy, these nobles are a demanding bunch. Had I known how hard I would work, I would've stayed with my mother and taken that butcher's apprenticeship." The old man sighed. Puck did not respond, focusing on getting Santana safely to bed. "I haven't had a proper sleep for two days now and it's all because of this lady. I've had to drive her around the past two nights and I'm ready to sleep until kingdom come." They had just reached Santana's door when a voice startled them both.

"You've been driving Santana around?" The Duchess emerged from the shadows of the master bedroom, dressed in a dark nightgown that made her blend with the darkness. The way she glided across the room made her seem like an unnatural spirit and both men shivered at her presence.

"Did I wake you, Duchess Lopez?" The carriage driver prepared to offer an apology.

"I am surprised you did not wake the whole estate." The Duchess snapped but she'd heard something most interesting. "Answer my question, did you say you have been driving my daughter around at night?"

"I meant no harm by it." The carriage driver stammered. "She's a lovely lady, and it is my duty..."

"Where did she ask you to take her?" The Duchess demanded. The carriage driver felt beads of cold sweat form under her interrogation. Puck took this chance to slip into Santana's room to hide. The Duchess bore down on the old man until he replied.

"I took her to a small town, Duchess." He said.

"Why?" The Duchess's eyes bore into his own. She terrified him, as she did with many who crossed her path and he dared not risk her wrath.

"She...she went to see her former servant girl." He admitted. The Duchess drew back as if the words burned her. Her lip curled in disgust and fury. Her instinct had been right after all. Santana had found that peasant again.

"Your Grace, I swear it will never happen..."

"Out of my sight." She hissed. The old man never walked so fast in his life. He was thankful that he'd not only escaped with his life, but with his job as well. Puck dashed out of the room after him, not wanting to be trapped with the Duchess waiting outside. The Duchess glared at the closed door, knowing that her daughter had deceived her again. She wondered for a moment how it was that Santana found that girl again, but the thoughts were quickly dismissed. There was no use in worrying about how it happened. With that girl back, and Santana sneaking off at all hours of the night, her status was once again jeopardized. If the prince found out, that would be the end of Santana, no, the end of their family. The Duchess regretted not taking action sooner against the peasant girl Brittany. She assumed that she'd been gone for good, and that Santana would not pursue her again. But she underestimated their affection for one another, the same mistake her own mother made.

_No matter_. The Duchess thought, heading back to her quarters. _I shall take it upon myself to correct it._ And she went to bed thinking of the best way to ensure that her daughter sat on the throne by the year's end, no matter what the cost.

* * *

The Duke returned at noon much to the Duchess's surprise. She had been prepared for his prolonged stay at the castle in light of the events.

"You've returned early." She noted as he walked through the door. He walked quickly into his study with the Duchess following leisurely behind. He dropped his bag of medical supplies and gathered up the papers scattered all over his desk.

"I came to fetch what I need." He explained. His eyes glanced over to the bag and a pang of guilt coursed through his body. "And to leave what I do not." He had been unable to save the king, and it left him feeling responsible for his death. But he could comb through all the things he did not do later. He had another role to play. He packed the papers in another bag and hurried out of the study.

"How long will you be away?" The Duchess asked.

"As long as the prince needs me." The Duke replied. "Is Santana still sleeping?"

"Yes." The Duchess replied with a sneer of disgust. As if on cue, Santana appeared on the balcony overlooking the two. She rubbed her eyes sleepily and the Duchess stared up at her, trying to control her rage.

"How many young ladies sleep until the sun is halfway through the sky?" Her mother asked. Santana shrugged nonchalantly. The Duke smiled up at her as she made her way down.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked, kissing her on the forehead as she walked close.

"Yes, father." She yawned. Her mother stared her down from underneath her half lidded eyes but Santana did not notice it.

"Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to my horse?" The Duke asked playfully but his words masked a ulterior motive. Santana, slightly confused by his jovial nature, nodded in agreement and the two headed for the stable so that the Duke could pick a fresh horse for the travel back. They made their way down the stone path through the garden. Santana noted with slight surprise that she had not walked through the garden in some time. It used to be where she spent most of her days; walking with Brittany. She knew she would never be able to do such a thing again and she thought of it with equal measures of fondness and longing.

"How is the prince?" Santana asked. The Duke glanced at her, smiling a little.

"You care for him?" He countered.

"I would like to call him a friend if he would let me." Santana replied.

"He would." The Duke said, looking off into the distance. His heart weighed heavily in his chest. "Santana...the prince is a very lonely boy right now."

"Of course he is, he has just lost his father!" Santana exclaimed.

"Yes. And he needs comfort right now. He needs someone he can be close with, someone to whom he can show pain." The Duke's heart weighed heavily in his chest. He did not want to pressure Santana, but he could not bear to see the prince suffer in solitude. "You and the prince have that closeness." Santana stopped in her tracks, staring in disbelief at her father. Immediately the Duke knew he'd said too much.

"You can't possibly mean..." Santana trailed off, hoping that her father had just momentarily gone mad. The Duke sighed and stopped right in front of the bench where Santana and Brittany used to meet on the night of their birthdays.

"Santana, try to understand my reasoning. I have never once pressured you to marry the prince. But now that the king is dead, the boy needs a modicum of intimacy that no one else can provide. I've seen how he trusts you, how he relies on you. Better he trusts you than any of his advisors. You are intelligent, and though he may not ask for it, you can be the sound voice in his ear." Santana could not believe what her father was saying. He'd been the only one who hadn't mentioned the rumors or the possibility of marriage. He'd been supportive of her taking her time to choose.

"Father, I can't possibly..."

"If he proposes marriage to you," The Duke's voice was authoritative and final, "You must accept." He left Santana in the garden, continuing down the path towards the stable. It did not sit right with him, telling Santana whom to marry. He did not approve of the common practice of choosing a husband for a daughter but he could see no other recourse in this situation. It was the only way he could protect the prince.

His horse was saddled up and ready for him when he arrived. He hopped on and took off down the path, his bag slung around his back. He swore to himself that he would not let harm come to Prince Finn while he was still young and impressionable.

Santana sat down on the bench, stunned from her father's words. He had been her last hope that she could choose whom she wanted to love and marry. With her mother bearing down at her at every possible second, she had hoped to seek refuge with her father. But now even that was not possible.

The Duke's words bothered Santana for the rest of the day. Her music lessons were largely ignored and she spent most of it thinking of Brittany. The sooner she could go to her, the better. As soon as the sun touched the horizon, setting it ablaze in a brilliant mess of orange and red, Santana could bear it no longer. She set down the book in her hand and hurried towards the stable.

"Where are you going?" She stopped dead in her tracks as her mother appeared in front of the door, having just returned from a stroll around the estate.

"T-the castle, mother." She stammered, thinking of no other excuse. Her mother's eyes narrowed, unconvinced by her lie and for a minute, Santana believed that somehow the Duchess had found out about her visits. But the Duchess's eyes softened and she walked inside.

"I am glad you are spending time with the Prince in his hour of need." She said simply. Santana exhaled, glad to be absolved of suspicion. "Will you not take the carriage?" Santana stopped again.

"N-no mother, I rather enjoy riding." She replied. Surely her mother could see right through her but oddly enough, her mother did not object. She merely paced towards her study and Santana breathed a sigh of relief. She did her best not to run down the stable but she could hardly contain her excitement. Puck had barely finished aligning the saddle when Santana jumped on and galloped away.

From the window on the first floor, the Duchess watched her daughter as she disappeared in the wrong direction. She snapped her fingers and the nearest servant approached her cautiously.

"Fetch the carriage driver." She ordered. "I will be setting off soon." The servant bowed and hurried off to get it done. The Duchess remained where she was, staring at the cloud of dust that swirled upward and dissipated with the slightest breeze.

* * *

Finn stared at himself in the mirror. He wore very dark garments from head to toe, a symbol of his mourning. He would wear it for months to come to serve as a constant reminder of what he had lost. His servants had just finished dusting him off when the Duke knocked on the door. Finn beckoned him in.

"Your Highness, the funeral arrangements have been made. Please, look over the guest list." The Prince waved his hand and the servants disappeared. Finn sat down on the bed and rested his arms against his knees.

"Duke..." He said. "I...I've been thinking a very, very long time about this. I believe it is better I ask you now. After the funeral, and the mourning period, I would ask for Santana's hand in marriage." The Duke blinked. He had anticipated this but it did not make the announcement any less shocking. "Would she have me as a husband?"

"I believe she would." The Duke lied. "But you are correct to wait until after the mourning is over." Finn nodded in agreement. He held out his hand for the list of guests.

* * *

Santana fingered the gravel in her hand, this time it was just a few stones. She had nearly smashed Brittany's window the last time she'd done that and wasn't keen on doing it again. She threw it, this time underhanded and lightly. They rapped against the glass one by one. Santana watched and waited. Instead of the window opening, however, the door opened and Brittany stepped out.

"I had a feeling it was you." Brittany said with a smile. Santana folded her hands in front of her, clutching her dress with excitement. She exhaled in relief. She'd had an unnerving idea that Brittany had left her again but Brittany took her gently by the hand and it drove any fears she had out of her mind. Together they walked into the house.

A carriage pulled up quietly in the opening of the wall. The curtains drew apart and the Duchess watched as Brittany closed the door behind her. Her eyes narrowed and she looked at the shabby town with disgust. She memorized the dreary looking house and took note of the light that went on through the window of the third floor.

"Take us home." She ordered and the carriage driver complied. As the wall obscured the view, she saw two shadows in the room and her jaw tightened. No matter, she would be visiting again soon.

The minute Brittany closed the door to her room, Santana threw her arms around Brittany and kissed her. Brittany stumbled backwards, crashing into the door and her eyes widened in surprise. She returned the kiss and when Santana pulled away finally, she looked into her former Mistress's eyes questioningly.

"Is everything well?" She asked. Santana rested her forehead against Brittany's neck and Brittany pulled her closer. She could tell that something was wrong. She dared not mention the King's death; she largely suspected that was the problem. Instead, she coaxed Santana down onto her lumpy mattress and held her close. Santana marveled at how warm Brittany was, and how easily her troubles melted away when Brittany held her. She let out a soft, satisfied sigh and buried her head into the nape of Brittany's neck. Brittany planted a kiss on the top of her head, rubbing her arm gently for support. Santana drifted off soon enough and Brittany traced the outline of Santana's face with one finger over and over again until she too joined Santana in sleep.


	20. Part 2: The Duchess and the Devil

It was still night when Santana awoke from her sleep in an unfamiliar, yet so comforting embrace. She rolled over, not an easy feat since much of her dress was stuck underneath Brittany. It was hard to believe at first, but her back hurt from the lumpy mattress, the pain a welcome sensation. Brittany slept soundly, clearly unvexed and used to the uneven surface. Her face was tranquil and her mouth hung open a little and Santana giggled when she let out a small snore. She did not linger long in peace. She soon realized she was well overdue at the castle. She tried to get up without disturbing Brittany. She gently removed Brittany's arm and the cold air assailed the newly bared skin. Her dress was another matter. Firmly wedged under Brittany's body, she could not see how to get up without at least pushing Brittany off the mattress first.

"Brittany..." She whispered, shaking the girl gently. Brittany let out a small snort and lifted her head.

"Miss?" She murmured. "Is everything alright?"  
"I have to go." She said, pressing her lips lightly against Brittany's. Brittany's eyes opened a little wider and her eyebrows knitted together, disturbed by the notion.

"You have to go?" She asked. Her words were still barely understandable and Santana giggled at them.

"Yes." She replied. "I was expected at the castle hours ago." She tugged on her dress and Brittany instinctively lifted her body to allow Santana to pull it away. Both got to their feet and Brittany rubbed her eyes sleepily.

"Will I see you again soon?" She questioned, yawning in the darkness. Santana pressed another kiss to her cheek.

"Of course." Santana promised. Brittany smiled through her half lidded eyes. "I will be back on my return journey tomorrow afternoon." Brittany reached out and pulled her into a loose embrace - one that Santana wished never to leave. But she pulled away knowing that in order to keep Brittany safe, she had to do things she would rather not, one of them being leaving. Brittany did not walk Santana out, she only let her out of the room and Santana walked slowly away from the shabby house. Her horse snorted impatiently, as if to demand why they were leaving so late into the night. Santana gave her horse a small pat and jumped on. Before she rode away, she cast a longing glance up at the window. Brittany had opened the window and was leaning out of it, her head drooping. Santana motioned for her to retreat into her room before she fell out and Brittany complied. _Less than a day._ She promised herself. _And then I will be back in her arms and no one will be the wiser._

The Duke had just turned in after a long night when a soft knock interrupted his sleep. He sat up, rubbing his temples to try and soothe the headache. He had a very long day tomorrow, for it was the day before the funeral and he wished to get a full night sleep before the guests started arriving.

"What is it?" He demanded. The door opened a creak and a thin, mousy guard poked his head inside.

"Your Grace, your daughter has just arrived." Immediately, the Duke flung the covers from his body and stood up.

"My daughter?" He demanded. He looked at the clock in the room to make sure that his tired mind was not playing tricks on him. But there it was, a little after one. He threw on his robe and marched out of the room, his long legs taking him much farther and faster than the guard and the thin man struggled to keep stride with the Duke. He burst out the front entrance just as Santana made her way up the steps.

"Santana!" He exclaimed. A part of him had wanted to believe that the guard mistook someone else for his daughter. But his eyes did not lie. "What in God's name are you doing here at this hour?"

"I fell asleep, father." Santana replied quickly, having thought up her story. "It was such a lovely day, and I wanted to ride."

"You did not take a carriage?" He asked in awe, looking over her shoulder.

"No, it was too beautiful a day. But riding the whole way here was far more work than I anticipated. I stopped to rest a bit and wound up sleeping away much of the evening." The Duke did not enjoy the thought of his daughter sleeping under a tree by the side of the road where any vagabond or thief could've chanced up on her vulnerable person. He frowned but Santana, wishing only to sleep, ran up and kissed him on the cheek.

"Don't frown so much, father, all of your hair will turn grey." She said, skipping past him. He turned sharply, opening his mouth to demand that she respect her elders but she was already down the hall when he found the words to scold her with. He shook his head but could not hide a smile. Seeing her in such high spirits lifted his own and he inhaled the cool crisp air, closing his eyes to enjoy the night. He opened his eyes to the sky. He could not have asked for much more. But when he saw how the stars sparkled, he remembered how brightly his wife's eyes shone, and how quickly they dimmed. He exhaled and looked across the yard. A figure darted across the road, hooded and dressed as night. His eyes narrowed against the torch the guard held, trying to catch a glimpse of the person again. The figure appeared in the road, head tilting from side to side as if studying the walls of the castle. Without knowing why, the Duke felt uneasy. The man, quickly walked away and the Duke watched for a moment longer, making sure that he did not return.

"Post a guard here. I want a report on any suspicious figures." The Duke ordered.

"Yes, Your Grace." The guard replied, though his voice was full of skepticism. The Duke turned back inside before correcting himself.

"Two."

* * *

Brittany's morning began like any other, yet despite having not slept the whole night, she felt oddly refreshed. Just thinking of Santana curled up against her made her heart race, readying her for the rest of the day. After finishing her morning chores, she skipped out of the house, greeting the day with a smile brighter than she'd ever smiled before. She'd been pulled from a year of sadness and regret that she could barely bring herself to admit. She would not waste such an opportunity again.

"Your smile blinds a man today." The tailor noted when she walked in, greeting him more cheerfully than usual. He was a bald, strong built man more suited for the smith than clothes. But he could not stand the heat of the hearth nor the clanging of metal. Brittany simply continued smiling and went about her business, picking up a stack of clothes in need of repair and patchwork and sat down in her small corner with a needle and thread. She worked merrily, even going so far as to hum to herself as the day went by. The blacksmith thought to tease her about her demeanor, meaning to guess if her smile was attributed to man but he did not want to upset her in any way. They chatted sparsely with Brittany talking as if small bells were attached to every word.

Unbeknownst to her, an expensive and beautiful white carriage pulled up to the local stable. Despite the outward appearance, the woman who stepped from the carriage held an expression that frightened all those who gazed upon her. She curled her lip in disgust when she looked around town, especially when the locals cast an awed eye in her direction. Few had seen such wealth and fewer still had ever encountered such nobility. She walked with purpose toward the door where only hours before, her daughter had deigned to enter. She knocked on the damp wood and listened as the landlord hobbled, his cane and feet making uneven noises on the ground. When he opened, his eyes grew wide as saucers.

"I'm here about a girl" the Duchess said. She was certain the old man did not even know the proper title to call her. "The fair haired girl." The man collected himself.

"Do you mean Brittany?" He asked. The Duchess bristled when she heard the name.

"Yes" she responded coldly. The old man scratched his head sheepishly.

"Ma'am..."

"Your Grace will do" she snapped. He bowed his head respectfully and in doing so, he caught sight of and recognized the signet ring on her hand. He'd only ever seen it once, when he was younger. It was the ring belonging to those of the Lopez family and he suddenly realized just who she was and how dangerous the situation had turned.

"Your Grace, beg your pardon..." He fumbled. "She's...she's currently not here."

"Then go get her" the Duchess hissed. The landlord looked down at his cane and his weak knee and back up at the Duchess but it was easy to tell that the Duchess had not a care if he was a cripple or not. He nodded his head, smiling nervously.

"Of course, Your Grace." He hobbled at a painfully slow pace towards the middle of town. The Duchess walked inside though she was loathe to do that. The ceiling was barely much higher than she was and the whole floor was covered in a fresh coat of dirt, no doubt tracked in by the many tenants that occupied the building. She picked up her dress in disgust and waited.

Brittany had just finished putting a patch on an old jacket when the landlord entered the building, leaning heavily on his cane for support. The minute she saw him, she stood up.

"Sir!" She exclaimed.

"There's...there's..." He gasped, out of breath even though it was a short journey from his house to the tailor's. "There's a noblewoman...here, waiting for you." Brittany set down her needle and thimble, standing up sharply. The tailor eyed the two of them supiciously.

"We never had no nobles pass through here..." He noted. Brittany did not hear him. She tried to fight back the smile forming on her face. She hadn't been expecting Santana until later in the afternoon but perhaps her want was too strong to keep her away, much like Brittany's own.

"Would you excuse me for a minute?" She asked. The tailor shrugged.

"Don't keep those nobles waiting. They hardly like that" he said. Brittany rushed out of the shop and sprinted down the small, narrow street back towards the house. The door was wide open when she got there and she jumped through the door with a grin on her face.

The grin vanished instantly when she saw the Duchess standing in front of the steps, her eyes turning and fixing intensely on Brittany. They were both surprised by the figure standing before them. Brittany started shaking as the Duchess took a step closer.

"Good afternoon, Brittany. You and I are due for a chat." She said. Brittany took a step backwards in fear, stumbling over the raised door frame. The Duchess scoffed at her. "Is this how you treat a noblewoman who travels all the way to speak with you?" Brittany regained her balance quickly. She did not know how she should react. Had the Duchess found out about them? Of course she had, there would be no other reason why she came. And if that was the case, then Brittany knew for sure that the Duchess was here to separate them by any means necessary. She just didn't know exactly that those means were.

"Your Grace, I...I do not..."

"Let us speak further in your room. What I have to say to you is not fit for ears other than your own." The Duchess replied. Brittany felt trapped. She could hardly deny the Duchess but at the same time, she feared for her very life. She nodded numbly and gestured up the stairs. The Duchess went first and Brittany followed. When they reached the top, the Duchess stepped through the doorway and observed her new surroundings. She sneered in disgust, noting that this was where her daughter chose to spend her days and nights. Brittany closed the door behind her, aware that she was trapping herself in with the Duchess.

"May I offer you something to eat or drink?" Brittany asked respectfully.

"I did not come here to have tea." The Duchess whirled around, her gaze as piercing as her tone. Brittany contemplated playing the fool for a while, but she knew it would only serve to infuriate the Duchess more. They both knew why she was here and there was no gain for Brittany to pretend nothing had happened.

"Your Grace, I know why you are here. I know this is about Lady Santana."

"There would be no other reason why I would set foot in this wretched town." The Duchess snapped.

"I did not actively seek your daughter, Your Grace. We met simply by chance. It had been so long since I had last seen her, and I have regretted the way we parted for an entire year. I understand that our friendship is not to your liking..."

"Friendship?" The Duchess laughed aloud and Brittany closed her mouth. "If you two had a friendship, that would be the least of my concerns." The blood drained from Brittany's face and her fingers went numb at the tips. "Don't play stupid with me, girl. I know what kind of relationship you have with my daughter. I do not lack for sight and hearing as my husband apparently does." Brittany could not think of anything to say in return. Her eyes were wide and her mouth tightly welded shut. The Duchess smirked at the effect her words had on her and paced the room slowly and looked out the window casually, waiting for the shock to wear off. Eventually, Brittany gathered her thoughts again.

"You do not understand..." She began.

"Please, enlighten me." The Duchess pressed mockingly. Brittany bit the inside of her cheek.

"I love her. I love her more than you can possibly imagine." She admitted. The Duchess turned her cold stare on her but her glare was quickly cut off. The look in Brittany's eyes was the same look of her young lover. Her speech faltered for a moment before she collected herself.

"Child," her voice embraced Brittany with a chill. "Let me tell you a tale. When I was young, my father had many servants. I remember two women in particular. They were your kind." Brittany wondered bitterly what "your kind" meant. "They harbored unnatural feelings for each other as you do for my daughter." _The feeling is mutual, but you would never admit to that,_ Brittany thought to say but she held her tongue. The Duchess continued her circle around the room, stopping at the foot of the mattress and looking down with contempt before going on.

"These two peasants should have kept to themselves, perhaps they should have run away from my estate. But not only did they continue their sinful activities, but they would go so far as to express it in the public eye." She turned to regard Brittany. "Do you know what happened to these two?"

"No, Your Grace." Brittany lied. She largely suspected the truth but she could not bring herself to say it. She knew the penalties.

"They were caught and put to death." The Duchess finished. Silence filled the room and Brittany's ears rung with the final word. _Death..._she did her best not imagine Santana dying. But at the same time, she could not imagine life without her and she hoped Santana felt the same. It was that hope that made her mouth move and her breath fill with sound.

"I love her." She said again with finality. "And I would protect her from such a fate." The idea amused the Duchess and she allowed a smile to grace her face.

"I anticipated you would say as much." She noted.

"Nothing you do will ever take me from her." Brittany warned.

"What do you hope to happen?" The Duchess mocked. "Did you wish for Santana to leave her current life behind? Did you want her to renounce her title, her status, and her wealth and share your filthy bed? Or perhaps you were hoping for her to take you in again, to clothe you properly and feed you well? And you would share her bed?"

"I..."

"I assure you that neither option is feasible. Do you truly presume to be important enough to tear her away from the comfort and security that she has known all her life? And do not begin to assume that her father's wealth will stay hers if she winds up old and unmarried." As cruel as the Duchess was, she was right. Brittany was at a loss for words again. She had not thought far into the future, not when Santana had just returned to her. But she could see that the Duchess had made her point well.

"I love her." Brittany said, though this time softly.

"Love alone has never clothed nor fed anyone." The Duchess remarked.

"I will not leave her." Brittany said again. "Nor will she leave me."

"You make bold statements. I know the former to be true enough, the latter's validity has yet to be proven." Brittany was confused as to why the Duchess had not yet demanded that she leave her daughter alone. In fact, it seemed as though the Duchess was acknowledging their love for each other. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Why have you come here today, Your Grace, other than to belittle my existence?" The Duchess smiled. Finally the girl had caught on. It had taken far longer than she would've liked to reach this point but she did not expect a simpleton like her to understand the complexities of a noblewoman's mind.

"I've come to take you back to the estate with me." Brittany was so stunned that she fell back against the wall. The Duchess had surprised her at every turn of the conversation. She wondered if the dust had gone to the Duchess's head.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace?" Brittany stammered.

"Such poor hearing for one so young." The Duchess shook her head. "I will repeat myself once more. You are to return to Duke Lopez's estate and resume your duties as Santana's personal servant."

"Your Grace, if I may inquire freely, what is it truly that you ask of me? You would not restore my service so easily. Therefore I can only assume that I am returning for some purpose other than to serve my Mistress dutifully again." The Duchess smiled. Perhaps Brittany was not as stupid as she initially believed.

"You are correct." She answered. "The details I would explain to you further when we reach the estate. I have spent enough time in this room and I do not wish to linger further. But I believe you will not find my conditions unfavorable. In truth, it carries some measure of risk, but I can think of no other way." The Duchess waved Brittany aside and Brittany opened the door for the Duchess, following blindly after her. When they reached the carriage, she paused for a moment, still confused by the Duchess's proposal.

"I still don't understand...I love your daughter and she in turn is in love with me. Why should you make it simpler for us to be together?" The Duchess turned to regard her and if Brittany had ever thought that she was, for once, doing something kind, the look in the Duchess's eye killed that notion.

"You don't understand but I do. The more I keep you away from her, the more she will want you. Santana is a child. She is a child and you were a birthday present, merely a play thing that my husband should never have bought. But like all play things, she will one day outgrow you." The conviction in her words were deep and they left Brittany cold where she stood.

* * *

Santana did not see the prince amid the chaos that was the funeral preparation. She'd woken up later than she'd anticipated, in part due to how late she arrived at the castle, and was informed that the prince had taken off early morning. He had gone hunting to avoid the commotion. _Just as well,_ Santana thought. She did not know quite how to approach the prince anymore or if she even wanted to do so.

She did, however, see her father rushing back and forth, organizing guests and staff. Had it not been for the mourning clothes and the general atmosphere of gloom, it would've seemed as though the castle was preparing for a grand party. She stayed with her father, helping him when it was possible but eventually he sent her away and did it all on his own. Santana took that cue to leave. She walked out to the stable where the stable master saddled her horse and helped her on.

"Will you be alright for the journey back, My Lady?" He asked. Santana responded affirmatively and urged her horse into a gallop, eager to leave without her father taking note and asking questions. She was so focused on getting to Brittany that she missed Quinn Fabray's carriage drive past her. Quinn, also lost in her thoughts, did not see Santana as she arrived at the castle gates. She walked in and it seemed that many of the guests stared at her and snickered to themselves. Whether it was her imagination or reality, Quinn cared not. She had felt empty inside since the dinner party and no longer cared what people said about her behind her back.

In her hand she held a basket of fruit, freshly picked from several of her father's many orchards. They had instructed her specifically to take it to the prince, yet when she entered the throne room, he was no where to be seen. She cradled the basket, looking around for any sign of the hulking royalty but she could see no one. A movement on the opposite side of the room caught her eye, and she looked over, her gaze landing on a small brunette girl, holding an similar basket. It took a moment, but Quinn recognized the girl as the young Rachel Berry, the daughter of a low ranking nobleman. But it wasn't the presence of the girl that distressed her, it was the gift that Rachel held. Suddenly the emptiness inside her was replaced with fresh shame. Her status was so much higher, yet they had brought gifts of equal value. She thought of how she would be mocked, how they would say "Oh how disgraceful, for the Marquess's daughter to offer no more than a few apples to the prince." Rachel noticed her and her expression brightened upon seeing a familiar face. She quickly strode over each step an overexcited bounce.

"Lady Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed. "You are looking well as ever." Up close, Quinn saw that they had even chosen the same color ribbon for the prince. The way Quinn eyed her angrily and did not respond to her greeting worried Rachel. She was used to being greeted heartily. And then it struck her. Even out as far as she was, she'd still heard rumours of the most unfortunate end to Quinn's pursuit of a husband. Surely that was what soured her mood so.

"I'm sorry to hear about Duke Harrington. I never liked him anyway." Rachel rambled in a poor attempt to lighten Quinn's mood. "He attended one of my parties..." Quinn did not hear anymore. Her face burned red and she just wanted to get away from this girl. She turned on her heel and walked briskly away. Rachel, noticing her mistake, chased after her.

"Wait!" Rachel called. "Please, I apologize, I didn't mean to offend you, I was merely..."

"Merely what?" Quinn whirled on her. Rachel skidded to a stop and the sudden shout made her drop her basket. Fruit scattered across the floor, rolling short distances before coming to a stop.

"I...I did not mean to offend you, Lady Quinn." Rachel said. She bent down, scooping up the produce. Quinn sighed and closed her eyes. She wished she could vanish, perhaps go to another country. Here she had nothing; she'd lost her reputation. She could not imagine that anyone wanted to marry her anymore.

"The whole country knows by now, do they?" She whispered to herself. Rachel, holding two pears in her hand and pinning several apples to her chest, slowly rose to her feet, letting the fruit fall back into the basket. She studied Quinn and noticed just how forlorn she looked. She felt terrible bringing to light Quinn's unhappy situation.

"I apologize." She said again.

"It isn't your fault." Quinn said, a sad smile flickered across her face. When did she become so pathetic? Quinn slowly walked towards the steps leading up into the towers. Rachel quietly followed and sat beside her, feeling guilty that she had brought it up. She needed to correct her error. When Quinn did not object, she ventured to speak.

"I have always admired you, my lady." Rachel admitted. Quinn turned sharply to look at Rachel in disbelief. She did not understand what the girl was saying. Rachel went on. "Whenever you entered a room, you did it with such grace, I am a little embarrassed to say that I felt very much like one of those potential suitors I was so in awe."

"And yet despite all of that, all of my suitors turn a blind eye to me and my reputation is in shambles." Quinn forced a laugh. Rachel looked over at her, studying the sadness etched into her face.

"I don't understand why. If I were the prince, I could think of no other lady that would so suit me." Quinn scoffed at the look on Rachel's face. Had she fallen so low as to take compliments from a Earl's daughter? And yet her spirits felt lifted by her attempts to cheer her up.

"You do me too much honor." She replied, regaining a minute of her former self. A moment of silenced passed between the two.

"You deserve better than the Duke." Rachel commented after a short while. Quinn took the statement as it was, not caring to look for any trace of sarcasm or pity. "You are more than simply Lady Quinn, and you are worth more than the man you marry. My father tells me this every day. It is true, you are more than just your beauty. You are well-read, clever, and confident. Most girls would be satisfied with just half of what you are." Rachel stopped, believing that she had said too much and shocked that such praise flowed freely. She hardly knew Quinn but she could not bear to see her in such a mood. Whether Rachel's words were genuine or not, Quinn did not care. She took comfort in them. No one had every tried to lift her spirits so, not even her parents.

"Thank you." She replied. Rachel turned away, not used to being thanked by someone as high ranking as Quinn. She stood up quickly and grabbed her basket of fruit.

"I should look for the prince and settle into my chamber for the night. The funeral is early tomorrow and I've travelled all night and day to reach the castle." She bowed to Quinn and took small note that her mistake had been righted. "Take care, Lady Quinn." And with that she raced up the stairs.

* * *

Santana arrived in Brittany's town midafternoon. Many of the townsfolk were still busy in their shops or houses so there were few out in the streets save for the townspeople that did catch a glimpse of her stared at her in awe, but she did not know that they had done the same earlier that day. She pulled her cloak around her head, trying not to stand out but the quality of her clothes and the manner in which she carried herself separated her visibly. She gave her horse to a stable boy and walked briskly towards Brittany's house. She bent down an picked up a few pebbles, then realizing that it was strange to be throwing rocks in the middle of the day, set them back down. She would do this the proper way. She knocked on the door and listened for signs of movement. She did not hear anyone rushing down the stairs but she heard the uneven gait of someone else. The door opened and a short, white-haired old man answered.

"Good afternoon, sir, I'm looking for Brittany Pierce." She asked politely. The old man shook his head.

"She's left, I'm afraid...uh...Your Grace...?" He trailed off on the last bit, unsure of what to call this new noblewoman. Though Santana flinched at how obvious it was that she was a noblewoman, she continued as if it did not faze her in the least.

"Is she away? When will she return?" Santana demanded.

"Not for a very long time. She left earlier today and informed me that should she not return by tomorrow, that she would not return for a very long time." The old man replied. Santana felt her heart start racing as she panicked.

"Are you sure? Did she leave to visit her family?"

"She left with Duchess Lopez." The old man leaned closer towards Santana. Santana's mouth went dry and she had never prayed so hard for something not to be true.

"Ho-how can you be sure?" Her voice cracked.

"She demanded I call her 'Your Grace', and she wore the signet ring belonging to the Lopez family. There is no mistaking that seal." He said. Santana did not remember the next few minutes. She must've turned and sprinted back towards her horse. The next thing she remembered was speeding down the road faster that she had ever ridden in her entire life. Her eyes watered in the wind and all the while she pleaded out loud that her mother had not done anything to Brittany.

When she arrived at the Lopez estate, she jumped off of her horse, not even caring if it wandered off. She ran up the stairs, out of breath and sweating through her clothes. She burst through the front entrance and looked around frantically. The Duchess had just turned a corner to go up the stairs when Santana spotted her.

"What have you done?" Santana yelled across the room, storming over. The Duchess blinked, mildly surprised by her daughter's appearance.

"Whatever do you mean?" She asked. She had an inkling of what had Santana so infuriated but she would never let on what she already knew before Santana made a fool of herself.

"Oh don't be stupid." Santana snapped. "You and I both know very well where you went today and what transpired there." The Duchess raised an eyebrow.

"Do you now?" She asked. "Perhaps I decided to do a bit of shopping in a small town. That was all. But I must say, Santana, it isn't proper for a lady to be running around as heavy footed as an ox and screaming at her own mother." Santana did not know whether to scream or to hit her. Restraint prevailed and she did neither

"If you have done anything..." She brought her hand up menacingly.

"Miss?" A small voice cut through her shouting, louder than if it had been someone else screaming from the top of a roof. Santana stopped in mid-sentence. She turned her head slowly to the second floor near the stairs where the voice had originated.

Standing at the top, in red and cream colors, tidied up since she had last been seen, stood Brittany. Her blue eyes shone with happy surprise. Santana's hand dropped back down to her side, her mouth open with the unfinished threat that died in her throat the minute Brittany's voice echoed downward. Brittany hurried down the steps in clothes she had not worn in a very long time. She lifted her dress, careful not to step on the hem and presented herself before the Duchess and Santana. She bowed, her blond hair cascading down before her face.

"Miss, I am at your service."


	21. Part 2: Only You

Brittany bowed, her blond hair cascading down before her face. Santana stared from her to her mother in disbelief. Her mother took a moment to savor the look on Santana's face. It was not often she saw her daughter in such a disheveled and unprepared manner. Eventually the shock wore off and Santana glared at her mother in distrust.

"What would you ask of me?" She hissed, knowing that there had to be some reason, some benefit her mother would gain from bringing Brittany back.

"Well, now that I have you both here, I suppose I should lay out my conditions." Brittany head snapped towards her. The Duchess had not fully explained why she had brought her back. She simply told Brittany to dress herself properly and present herself when Santana returned. This was the first she heard of any conditions and the thought worried her. Santana did not glance at Brittany. Her eyes were fixed on the Duchess.

"I knew there was something more. You wouldn't have brought her back unless you had some sort of sinister plot..." The Duchess cut her off.

"I simply ask that you carry on as you have for the last year." Her mother replied, faking innocence. When Santana did not look convinced, the Duchess decided to continue on with her explanation. "I do not lie when I say that is all I ask of you. You will carry on as you have for the past year, as if I hadn't brought her back. You will still visit the prince, and if he should ask for you hand in marriage, you will accept."

"And why should I accept?" Santana demanded, her eyes flitting to Brittany. But Brittany understood. She realized what the Duchess's words meant back at her small home. She folded her hands in front of her and looked down at her feet.

"She knows, Miss." Brittany said quietly. Santana regarded her with a look of astonishment. Much like how Brittany reacted, the blood also drained from Santana's face.

"You are too young to understand now." The Duchess remarked. "But for you, there is no choice. You can chose to marry the prince, become the queen and perhaps you will even bear a few of his children." Santana felt disgusted by the thought of bearing one of Finn's children, much less "a few". "And you may take Brittany with you as your personal servant. No one would object, and no one would dare cross the queen. You may choose to carry on your...trysts..." She said the word carefully and the corner of her mouth twitched, betraying her true feelings about the nature of their relationship. "In private. You would both live comfortably."

"And what if I refuse?" Santana asked, though she knew she would not like the answer.

"Then I will do everything in my power to make sure that you never see this girl again." The Duchess answered. "Do not underestimate me, Santana. You are but a child who remains inches from the throne. Should you give it up, or should you lose it, this girl will disappear and no amount of luck will bring you back together. But should you become queen, not even I can control your actions." Santana bit her lip and Brittany's head shot up. She tried to hide the concern the Duchess's words had evoked but Santana could see right through her. Her mother was a woman to be feared, Santana realized now, especially to someone such as Brittany.

"Father would object to you having a hand in who I marry." Santana said defiantly.

"Would he?" The Duchess asked with a smirk. Santana's words fell flat as she remembered what her father had said to her just the day before. _"If he proposes marriage to you, you must accept."_ Santana's gaze fell. "He would also object to Brittany returning. If I recall, he was the one who cast her out. Unless I speak with him, you can be sure that he will do it again."

"I..."

"You can't accept!" Brittany blurted. "You do not love him, why should you marry him?"

"Quiet, girl." The Duchess hissed, silencing her immediately. "This is a decision that Santana must make on her own. You have played your part admirably but Santana must learn that she cannot have everything. She cannot have you and expect to live on as she does without making concessions." The Duchess turned back towards Santana. "You must make a choice, Santana. Do you 'love' this girl enough to make a few sacrifices of your own?" Santana's eyes flicked over to Brittany who silently begged her not to go through with it. But what her mother said rang true. If she married Prince Finn, her mother would no longer have any say over what she did. They would live comfortably in the castle. And Santana needed only to bear one heir, just one. Then she and Brittany could be together and no one would dare say a word. And the alternative...she had no doubt in her mind that her mother would get rid of Brittany in any way possible. She leveled her gaze back at her mother.

"Very well. I accept your offer." Santana said. Brittany's heart plummeted while the Duchess smiled approvingly.

* * *

It was late in the evening when Rachel Berry emerged from her room, thirsty and cold. She wrapped a thick wool blanket around her shoulders and stumbled across the icy stone floor in search of anyone who would bring her a glass of water. Most of the guests had retired for the night and the hallways were eerily empty. She could not even find a guard.

"Is anyone there?" She asked. Her timid voice echoed through the halls and no one responded. She pulled the blanket closer and ventured further away from her room. It wasn't long before she did not know where she was. Panic set in and she walked briskly, trying to remember any familiar rooms or paintings. But in the darkness it was hard to see and even harder to navigate.

"Please, anyone, I have lost my way..." She shouted. It was as if the castle had been emptied. She felt a breeze from a corridor to her left. Surely it led outside, and then she could make her way back to her room from the main gate. She quickly ran towards the draft and found herself out in the garden situated near the west wing of the castle. She sighed in frustration. There was only one entrance to that garden, and it was surrounded on all other sides by walls. But at least she knew what general direction to walk when she went back inside.

Just as she turned, a large figure lying in the grass near the west wall caught her eye. She tilted her head, trying to see if the person was hurt or dead. She narrowed her eyes in the dimness to get a better glimpse and gasped when she recognized who it was.

"Your Highness?" She asked. Finn jumped when he heard her voice and scrambled to his feet, leaving an imprint of his body on the ground. "Your Highness! What are you doing out here at his hour? Are you not cold?" Finn colored when he saw who it was.

"Miss Berry, I was not aware that you had arrived. I had thought your father..." He stammered and they walked towards each other, meeting near the large fountain situated in the center of the garden.

"I've been sent in my father's stead. He sends his deepest regrets that he cannot attend but there seems to be violence on his land and he did not see fit to leave without resolving it. I arrived early this afternoon. I fear you were out hunting." She replied. He laughed and scratched his head bashfully.

"If I tell you a secret, would you be kind enough to keep it?" He asked, feeling rather jovial despite the mourning period. Rachel nodded though she felt uneasy about what he was going to reveal. "I did not go hunting. I have been here all day." He admitted. Rachel let out a surprised laugh and Finn joined in as well.

"You jest?" She asked.

"No. Hardly anyone comes this way. I actually despise hunting but I say that when I wish to be left alone." He explained. Rachel took a step back, as if to go inside.

"Do you wish to be left alone now?" Finn leaped forward to stop her.

"No!" He exclaimed and then drew back. "What I meant to say is, I have been alone all day. I would certainly not be bothered by company now." He mentally berated himself for his inability to speak to her. Rachel did not mind. She took a step towards him.

"You must be cold." She said, offering her blanket. He shook his head and refused.

"I am quite used to it. Is the weather more fair where you come from? I have not had the pleasure of visiting the southern countryside. I imagine it to be warmer, and for there to be a full harvest year round." Rachel giggled at the thought.

"Hardly. Our winters are very hard on us." Finn looked up at the sky.

"My father used to love the winter. He took me riding in the snow every winter and we would ride the grounds until our noses froze." His eyes sparkled with unshed tears. Rachel looked up at his strong, square face and admired his strength.

"You must miss him dearly." She whispered. Finn said nothing in return. He kept staring at the sky, as if his father would magically fall from the Heavens. He did miss his father, but he imagined that his father had been reunited with his mother and Finn found comfort in that thought.

"I...I hear tales of your enchanting voice. Not a dinner goes by that I do not hear chatter about how lovely you sing." Finn said, changing the subject to a happier matter. Rachel tucked a lock of hair behind her ear self-consciously.

"I have taken lessons my entire life." She said proudly.

"Would you be kind enough to sing a song?" He suggested. Rachel broke out into a grin. Her parents had already heard more than enough of her singing and any servant who heard her so much as humming ran out of sight as fast as they could. To hear the prince request a song from her brought an immeasurable amount of happiness to her.

"Of course, Your Highness." She said. Finn sat down on the ground and looked up at her as she cleared her throat. She opened her mouth and Finn closed his eyes, listening to the melodious voice that flowed freely, bouncing off the garden walls, wrapping him in comfort. She sang softly and the tune was melancholy but the lyrics hopeful. He pulled his knees close to his chest, losing himself in the song. He had no memories of his mother singing to him and his nannies only sang childish lullabies to put him to sleep when he was younger. Rachel's voice soothed his soul and calmed his mind. He forgot about his father and the funeral, about the crown and his responsibilities. He sat in the courtyard, listening to Rachel Berry sing song after song until she could not remember anymore of them.

* * *

Santana could tell that Brittany was angry or at the very least, upset. The way she undid her corset was sloppy and her servant let out a sigh of frustration.

"Brittany..." She began, turning around.

"Why? Why would you agree to that? I don't see how this is any different than Quinn ordering you _not _to marry the prince." Brittany snapped.

"You left when you found out. Why are you still here?" Santana asked. Brittany was just pulling back the covers of Santana's bed when Santana asked. She paused for a moment to consider her answer and then went about her business.

"I fear the alternative. I do not know if either of us could bear parting from each other again." Brittany replied. Santana reached out and grabbed Brittany's hand. She did not say anything but her eyes spoke volumes. Brittany could see fear in them - fear of her leaving again.

"I do not know what would happen if you should leave me again." Santana said quietly. Brittany brought her other hand up and squeezed Santana's. Her Mistress looked up. "I will think of something. The Prince's mourning period has just begun, perhaps I will...I will find another way. But should it come down to that..." She trailed off. Brittany nodded understandingly. Santana got into bed and retrieved a book from her nightstand. Brittany made a move to leave but Santana stopped her.

"Would you sit for a moment?" She asked. Brittany complied, fetching a chair from the corner and bringing it up to Santana's bed. The night was quiet, save for the small hissing of the candle as it flickered and the sound of paper as Santana turned each page. For the first time in a long while, Brittany finally felt as if everything was what it should be. She pushed the thought of Santana's impending engagement out of her head and just focused on the girl she loved.

She could not describe the warmth that welled up in her chest as she watched her Mistress read. It was simply wonderful, it filled her up, squeezing out tears because there was just so much of it inside her. She took note of everything, the delicate way Santana licked her thumb before turning the page, the way her eyes clicked rapidly as they scanned the words. She could not believe that of all things, that despite everything she'd done, she was sitting once again by her beloved Mistress's side. Santana's eyes rolled sideways and Brittany sat up straight and blinked away her tears.

"Is everything alright?" Santana asked, setting her book down across her lap. Brittany nodded.

"Yes Miss." Brittany replied. "Don't mind me, I didn't mean to disturb your reading." Santana shrugged and closed the book, setting it down on her nightstand.

"I'm feeling rather tired." Santana said.

"Of course." Brittany said, standing up. "It is late, Miss." She blew out the flickering candle and turned to leave. Before she could take one step, Santana's hand shot out and grasped the hem of her dress. Santana tugged and Brittany turned around. Santana's hand dropped her grip on her dress and instead anchored around Brittany's wrist. Her eyes closed.

"Stay." She ordered. Her fingers tightened almost painfully. Brittany sat back down and Santana opened her eyes lazily, as if they could not stay open for much longer. Brittany's mouth opened to speak, to ask if her Mistress was feeling ill but not a whisper escaped her lips. "Or go to your room." Santana quickly amended. She rotated in her bed until her back was turned to Brittany. "Just…don't leave me again." Brittany sucked in air and her pulse fluttered against her skin. Hearing the vulnerability in Santana's voice made her realize just how stupid it was to leave her in the first place. They needed each other, whether as friends or as more, they were so interwoven in each other's lives that it was impossible to rip one away from the other. And she knew, had the positions been reversed, she would've done the same thing Santana had. Brittany stayed with Santana until her Mistress was fast asleep. She stood up and leaned over the bed, planting a small, tender kiss on Santana's cheek before leaving the room.

* * *

The morning welcomed a thick mist hovering over the ground, creating dew drops on the grass and trees. When the sun peeked across the horizon, the mist shattered the light, making the ground sparkle for the new day. Brittany lay in her bed, sleeping peacefully when the door burst open.

"I HAVE A MIND TO STRANGLE YOU!" The voice made Brittany scream and leap off of the bed, thinking that someone was about to murder her. She landed on the ground with a thud and scrambled for cover. "YOU RETURN AND YOU SAY NOTHING TO ME?" Brittany peeked over the bed, terrified out of her mind by the shouting. Standing in the door way, her face red with anger, was Noel.

"Noel!" Brittany said standing up.

"You better have a good explanation for this past year." Noel snapped, pointing a finger accusingly. "You disappear into the night and I'm left wondering if you had died or if someone had taken you..." Brittany took two large steps to get to her and embraced her warmly.

"I'm sorry." She said. Noel wrapped her arms around her, trying to hold back the tears.

"You must know how I worried...you can't do anything by yourself."

"You young ones know nothing of respecting elders and their sleep." The ever old, ever present nanny coughed from her bed. Noel pulled away from Brittany and laughed.

"You hardly look a day over forty." She teased. The old nanny rolled her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Brittany wiped her eyes, feeling as though she'd finally found where she belonged. "Come, you must have many, many stories to tell." Noel ushered her outside and Brittany fell back into the daily routine. She told Noel of where she went, though not why, and how she spent the past year. Noel in turn regaled her with gossip surrounding the estate. Suffice it to say, _much_ had happened while Brittany had been away.

They chatted merrily until the Duchess turned up in the room where they swept. Noel went quiet and looked away but Brittany stared her down.

"Tell Santana I will be at the funeral." She said simply and turned to leave.

"Will Santana not attend?" Brittany blurted. The Duchess looked back with a smirk.

"Don't be silly. A funeral is no place for romance." She replied. "Surely even a peasant like you should know that." And with that she strode out of the house, and disappeared into a carriage. Brittany simmered where she stood, wanting nothing more than to forcefully remove that smile off of the Duchess's face. Instead, the light peal of a bell distracted her.

"Lady Santana calls." Noel noted, rolling her eyes. Brittany kept her excitement to herself as she hurried up the steps. Santana had just woken up and Brittany quickly entered the room and closed the door.

"Good morning, Miss." She said, bowing.

"Don't call me that." Santana yawned. "Santana will do just fine when we are in private." Brittany smiled, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching even though the door was closed and skipped over to her Mistress's bed. She planted a quick kiss on her lips before hopping backwards.

"Shall I draw a bath for you, Miss? There is fresh water below, just brought in.." Brittany asked. Santana frowned at the "Miss" but she nodded. She'd woken up too early and a bath could certainly help her wake up. "Her Grace has left for the funeral. I suspect she will be gone for most of the day." Santana smiled a little at that. After their confrontation yesterday, she wasn't sure she could handle seeing her mother again without feeling the intense urge to deal out her own idea of an "offer". Brittany left the room hurriedly and went downstairs to prepare the bath.

When all was ready, Brittany fetched Santana from her room and led her downstairs. Santana undressed and slipped into the hot water, reveling in the feeling. Brittany watched her, envying her luxury. She had never known the joys of a hot bath, most families were not wealthy enough for that. She watched Santana run her hands up and down her arms, washing away the countless days of grime. Brittany's cheeks flushed suddenly as she caught herself staring too intently. Brittany traced the curves of Santana's body with her eyes as they disappeared under the water. She had seen Santana nude before, it had been part of her daily process and she had never thought much of it beyond her tasks. But as Santana scooped the hot water and gently washed her shoulder Brittany's eyes devoured her figure inch by smooth inch. Brown eyes flicked up and met inquiring blue and Santana's hand dropped down with a splash. Brittany looked away quickly, her cheeks coloring.

Santana stepped out of the small tub and walked over to Brittany, the water trailing down her body and dripping onto the stone floor. Brittany could not help but glance repeatedly as Santana made her way over, not bothering to cover herself. Santana cupped both sides of Brittany's face and kissed her. The water cascaded from her back onto Brittany's clothes but she did not mind.

"Brittany..." Santana said in a low voice that made her servant focus. "Should I..." She swallowed, finding the words difficult to say. "Should I have to marry the prince...should I have to marry anyone..." Brittany nodded to show that she followed her words. "I would..." Santana cleared her throat. A chill went up her spine. "I would not have them be the first to touch me. I would...I would have someone I love." It took a moment for Brittany to understand. Her eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of what Santana was saying. When it finally dawned on her, her eyes went wide as saucers and her mouth dropped open in shock. Santana suddenly felt self conscious and quickly dried and dressed herself.

"I should like to go riding." Santana said quickly.

"Of-of course, Miss" Brittany stuttered. They exited the room, not daring to look each other in the eye. Santana marched down to the stable, intent on running away from her embarrassment. Puck reclined against a stack of hay and when he saw Santana enter, he got to his feet.

"Miss." He bowed. "Are you..." Brittany followed and Puck gagged on his words when he saw her. His face went white, as if a ghost had come into the barn. Santana did not wait for Puck to recover. She lifted the saddle from the ground and handed it to Puck who kept staring at Brittany. He sloppily saddled Santana's horse.

"Would you have me accompany you?" Brittany asked. Santana shook her head.

"Ah...that isn't necessary. I need time to think." She quickly amended, "About my mother's offer." And finding the situation no longer bearable, she quickly urged the horse out of the stable and broke into a gallop across the field. Puck took a step towards Brittany, touching her shoulder to make sure she was real. Brittany laughed awkwardly.

"You...?" He asked, struggling to find the words to describe his astonishment.

"Yes, you idiot." Brittany shoved him lightly. She glanced over her shoulder at the now distant silhouette, her mind still thinking of Santana's words. She did not understand what possessed Santana to suggest what she did. But the more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. Her gaze went back to the still shocked stable boy. An idea struck her, certainly a stupid one, but she could think of no one else so suited to give advice. But judging by how hard he stared at her in disbelief, she first owed him an explanation.

* * *

Santana rode hard and fast into the woods until the stable was no longer in sight. She paused to catch her breath, mentally berating herself for being so stupid and bold. The idea had crossed her mind after her mother suggested that she bear children once she married the prince but she hardly imagined suggesting such a thing to Brittany so soon.

"She must think very poorly of me." Santana muttered angrily. She brought her hand up to rub at her temples. How could she have done that? She knew why. The way Brittany stared at her, the hunger that filled her eyes when she watched Santana bathe, that was what prompted the sudden outburst. Brittany may not have come forward as Santana did, but it was clear that she wanted Santana just as much.

The thought brought a fresh flow of blood to Santana's cheeks and she shook her head to clear herself of such dirty thoughts. She hoped that the incident would soon be forgotten.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin." She said aloud but it only served to embarrass her further. She put her foot into her horse's side and galloped further into the woods, hoping to outrun her own desires.

* * *

Back at the stable, Brittany told Puck of her year and unlike with Noel, she spared no detail. Puck knew of their relationship, and she felt she owed it to him to be truthful. He listened patiently and waited until the end to ask his questions.

"The Duchess knows." He clarified.

"Yes." Brittany replied with some regret. "We should've been more careful...she never should've visited me as often as she did." Puck blinked in surprise.

"The carriage driver mentioned he drove Santana around more often than he would like. She was visiting you then?" Brittany nodded and hung her head shyly. Puck ran his hand over his short hair and sighed.

"I do not believe it would have made any difference. The Duchess has her ways. And perhaps it was a blessing that she found you two. You can be together under one roof again."

"Only under the condition that Santana marries the prince!" Brittany countered. Her exclamation brought back the memory of Santana and her request. Brittany turned bright red and Puck laughed at how quickly she quieted.

"Are you alright? You look a tad flushed."

"I..." She could not bring herself to ask him. "Ah..."

"Speechless to see me again?" He teased. Brittany smacked him on the shoulder lightly and he drew back with a smile. She bit her lip worryingly. If she did not ask him now, she may not have the courage to do so later.

"I have something to ask of you." She said. "But you must promise me never to speak of it to anyone else, nor laugh at me when I ask." She grew redder by the minute and Puck raised an eyebrow at her request.

"What is it? Out with it." Brittany sucked in breath and steadied herself.

"How does...how does one...'do it'?" Brittany looked down quickly, not daring to believe those words had come out of her mouth. Puck on the other hand did not initially understand.

"What do you mean? Do wha-" His sputtering stopped when his brain finally understood and he almost choked on his words. "You mean...oh God, you..."

"I ask how one consummates a marriage...or something of..."

"I know what you mean." Puck interrupted. "But I..." He looked outside in the direction of Santana's path. "With her?" Brittany nodded shyly. Puck covered his face, trying to block out the image in his head. Brittany smacked him on the shoulder again.

"Please, I don't know who else to ask." Puck cleared his throat, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

"And you're sure you...she...um..."

"I just need to know." Brittany said. "Whether _it_ happens or not..." Puck shook his head.

"Very well, but I only know how to teach by showing you." When Brittany threatened to hit him again, he put up his hands in defense. "I jest! I jest!" He motioned for her to lay down and Brittany shot him a warning look. He rolled his eyes. "Just trust me." Brittany laid down and Puck coughed. "Normally, this is where you begin." He straddled her awkwardly. "You lay on top of the girl and...um..." He blushed red seeing Brittany splayed out under him. Though he tried not to, his mind went back to Quinn and how her eyes glowed in the light. He shook his head to rid himself of that image.

"I have that much figured out." Brittany said crossly.

"Kiss them if you like." Puck said, bending to demonstrate, puckering his lips like a fish. Brittany laughed and slapped him away. He smiled at her. Laughing made the whole situation easier for him.

"Puck! Lady Santana may return at any moment, and if she should see us..." Brittany crossed her arms in front of her chest. He nodded

"You may remove clothes if you would like." He went on. "I find it simpler not to but you may think otherwise. Should you remove...ah...clothes..." He scratched his head. "I've found that...women particularly like it if...um..." He gestured towards her chest. "You take it...um...in your mouth as a babe would..." He suddenly flung himself away. "I can't do this." He shook his head. How could sex, something he liked to think of himself as a master, be so difficult to explain. Brittany sat up, equally embarrassed but determined to learn.

"Continue, I beg you." She pleaded.

"You certainly aren't the first woman to ask that of me." He joked but he could see the desperation in her eyes. "Ultimately...what you want is under the skirt. If you were a man...you would...ah, put your, um, horn down there. But since you are a woman, I imagine fingers would do just as well." He could not believe he was explaining this to her so academically.

"What would my fingers do just as well?" Brittany asked.

"Well, you can put them inside or..." He sat up straight. "There is a place that I've found, uh, down there that drives women mad with pleasure. You'll know when you find it." He sighed. "That is all I can offer." Brittany coughed and pushed her hair back behind her ears.

"Thank you." She said. The sound of distant hooves running caught their attention. Santana was on her way back and Brittany looked as though she might run off and hide.

"I wish you well on your endeavor." Puck said with a smirk.

* * *

The sky had turned grey and the air cold by the time the funeral took place. Winter was well on its way in. The Duchess bowed respectfully before the Prince as they buried the late king. The King's closest advisors kept a respectful silence the entire time and Finn tried his best to look strong. When they had covered up the coffin, many of the advisors offered their sympathy.

"Long live King Finnian." They chanted even though Finn had not yet been crowned King. He nodded in acknowledgement and they began walking away.

"Will you be alright, Your Highness?" The Duke asked. Finn nodded. "You intend to keep vigil?" Again he nodded. The Duke patted him on the shoulder and followed the others back towards the castle. Only Rachel stayed.

"I must, ah, thank you, for the comfort you brought me last night." He said.

"It was my honor." She replied with a smile. "I should leave you to your vigil." As she walked by him, he grabbed his hand.

"I should...I should thank you properly. Please, stay a day or two more in my hospitality." He stammered awkwardly.

"If you wish it." They smiled at each other and though their smiles were tinged with sadness, there was also hope. Rachel bowed one last time before making her way back towards the gates. Finn watched her walk away until she was a mere speck in the distance and turned his attention back towards his father's grave.

"Father..." He began. "What should I do?"

* * *

Santana waited patiently as Brittany undid the laces to her corset. Her clothes were caked in mud from riding and she wanted nothing more than to change into a fresh set of linens. She could not bring herself to look Brittany in the eye, not after their charged interaction while she bathed. Her whole body felt hot just thinking of how boldly she spoke. _I would not have them be the first to touch me. I would...I would have someone I love._ She cleared her throat awkwardly and focused on the wall ahead of her.

Behind her, Brittany was lost in her thoughts. She had not felt such want in her entire life and it was torture just to undress Santana, to be there when she bathed, and to love her at the same time. She fumbled a little with the laces, Santana's smooth, dark skin lingering in her thoughts. She tried to push the images away, but they were quickly replaced with Santana's naked figure sitting up in the bathtub, with her eyes that spoke clearly what her words did not. _I would have you..._they said. She bit her lip and debated whether or not to wait, to think on it for a night, or two or several.

"_Both the Duchess and the Duke are out today. but the Duke may come home...and he may throw you out." _A voice in her head argued.

"_The Duchess promised to speak with him..."_ Yet another thought chimed in.

"_And what if it isn't enough to persuade him?"_ To which the second voice did not respond. She knew that their time together depended on the Duke's approval, and that there was a chance he may exile her again.

She loosened the final lace and Santana lifted her arms. Brittany removed the corset from Santana's body, letting her two pinky fingers brush against Santana's side. At first, Santana believed it to be a simple mistake, though the touch made her flush red anew. But then Brittany's touch returned. Her hands caressed Santana's side, her fingers running up and down Santana's ribs. Santana suddenly knew it was not going to end with Brittany undressing her as a servant would her mistress. She turned around and studied Brittany. Brittany thought of speaking, but this was not a time for words. She cupped Santana's chin and kissed her, sending up a brief prayer for all to go well. Santana brought her hands up to Brittany's face, deepening their kiss. Brittany pulled away, breathless and scared but she could not stop herself. Santana turned to look at the bed and walked backwards, grabbing Brittany's hand and bringing her too. They sat on the bed and Brittany awkwardly leaned in again for a kiss but Santana was unprepared. Brittany's lips instead made contact with Santana's exposed shoulder and stayed there. She let out a small gasp when Brittany nibbled at the sensitive skin along the base of her neck.

Santana closed her eyes and savored the feel of Brittany kissing every bit of her bare skin and the moments when she would break off to kiss her lips again. Her heart fluttered wildly at the thought of what they were about to do. She leaned back and looped her arm around Brittany's neck, pulling her down with her. Brittany fell forward, almost knocking her head against the bed's backboard. Her hand tugged at Santana's dress, pulling the hem ever closer to Santana's hips. Santana struggled to breathe against Brittany's actions. Her long fingers ghosted the skin on her thigh and Santana involuntarily shivered.

"Are you cold, Miss?" Brittany asked. Santana's eyes opened and Brittany saw how clouded they were with need.

"No." Santana replied. "And stop calling me that." Brittany smiled. She had gathered fistfuls of the hem to Santana's slip and with one hand she gently coaxed Santana into a sitting position. Santana sat up, letting Brittany lift it over her head. And then she was bare.

She'd seen Santana naked many times before. But this was different. Santana laid back down and it was all Brittany could do not to faint. Santana's long, dark hair began to unravel and her cheeks were colored red. Santana opened her arms.

"I've...I've never..." Santana stammered. Brittany offered a nervous smile in return.

"Nor I." She said. _Then we will find out together..._

"Please." Santana whispered but she was not sure of what her request was. But Brittany knew, or at least had an inkling from what Puck told her. She hated thinking of Puck at this time, but he was the only source of knowledge she had. She sank her body on top of Santana's and kissed at her collar bone. Both her hands found Santana's and grasped them tightly. Santana's eyes flung open and she stared at the red canopy above her bed, her eyes rolling backwards when Brittany pressed her lips in the space between her breasts. One of their hands came apart - Santana was too distracted to remember which - and danced along Santana's hip. Brittany had no idea what to expect, whether it would hurt like the servants often whispered it did. The thought of hurting her Mistress distressed her, but she could not stop herself.

Her lips found the tip of Santana's right breast and the took it between her teeth, flicking her tongue as Puck had instructed. The reaction was immediate and powerful. Santana arched her back with a gasp so loud and sudden that Brittany pulled back.

"No..." Santana pleaded. "Please..." Again, she begged and again, Brittany felt something stir in her lower belly. She complied, bringing Santana's nipple into her mouth again. With her other hand, she palmed Santana's other breast. Santana's skin felt hot against Brittany's hand and she arched her own back, lifting herself off of Santana's upper body. Brittany ventured her fingers down where the heat was most intense, watching Santana's face carefully for any sign of pain. She did not know what to expect, and so she expected the worst. Santana gripped Brittany's hand harder so that Brittany would not feel how her hand trembled. Brittany's fingers fumbled experimentally, and she mentally noted just how wet it was down there. It was all strange and new to her, but she could not help but feel it was right. Her fingers parted the folds there and her middle finger travelled up and down. _You'll know when you find it._ Brittany's finger ran over a small bump and Santana let out a shriek, sitting up. Brittany started and removed her hand.

"No!" Santana exclaimed, grabbing Brittany by the wrist. "Again..." Brittany realized that she had found it. The two sank back onto the bed and Brittany's fingers travelled directly to that small nub and drew circles on top of it. Santana's breathing grew heavy and erratic and every now and again, a small moan or gasp would escape from her lips, letting Brittany know that what she was doing was welcome. Santana's hand found the back of Brittany's head and pulled her in for another kiss. Something built in her chest, a pressure that sunk slowly downward. Her whole body felt like it was on fire and she did not want any of it to stop.

It happened unexpectedly. Brittany's wrists kept turning as they had, rubbing circles on that sensitive place that made Santana tingle from the roots of her hair down to her toes. But the tingling grew. It expanded and Santana felt as though her whole body would come apart if Brittany continued but she could not imagine telling her to stop.

"Brittany..." She managed to moan before everything went white and the pressure erupted, turning every inch of her body into a million points of pleasure. She jerked Brittany down and crushed their lips together. Santana cut her lower lip on Brittany's teeth but waves and waves of ecstasy rippled from her core outward and she did not feel the pain. Brittany opened her eyes and pulled away from the kiss, watching Santana quake and writhe on the bed, her mouth open in a silent scream and her head thrown back, exposing the rapid pulse beating at her neck. Brittany's wrist hurt and she was certain there would be a bruise on her lip where Santana had yanked her their lips together in her moment of need but it did not matter. Happiness and pride swelled within her for being the one to cause such a reaction from her Mistress.

She pulled the covers over their body so that Santana would not catch a cold. Santana buried her forehead into Brittany's right shoulder, taking comfort in the feel of Brittany's body on top of hers. Her hands intertwined with Santana's anchoring their bodies together just in case God decided to intervene and try to fling them apart. Brittany planted a kiss on Santana's forehead. _Not even God can tear us from each other._


	22. Part 2: The Greatest Kindness

_ Blood splattered across the alleyway, mixing and washing down the grey cobblestones as the rain bore down. A man crouched in the darkness, his hand covering his face and his mouth open in a wail that left unanswered. Above him stood a cloaked woman, her hand shaking with fury and fear. But her eyes were cold enough to be a murderer's. The man brought his hands out in front of him and when he saw the blood staining his entire palm, he let out a low scream._

_ "It's done." The woman said quietly but her voice trembled. "Now...now you will be nothing. I've taken everything from you just as you have from me." She watched as he scrambled along the ground, half blinded by the blood washing into his eyes. She had truly taken everything from him, just as she had taken everything from the other man responsible for the senseless murder of her beloved. Years it had taken to strip their power, wealth, status and credibility. Years it had taken for them to fall to the level where they would accept even the smallest of opportunity. It hadn't been hard to lure them and take the only thing they had left. Their beautiful faces, the only thing they could salvage from the ruins of their sabotaged lives, had been taken from them. And where ever they went, everyone would look at them in the same disgust and hatred that she felt towards them everyday._

_ "For you, my love." The woman whispered as she turned and walked away. The man, still writhing in pain, tried to reach for her but his face stung and his vision blurred. As she rounded the corner, he realized just where he was and who she had been._

* * *

Santana fidgeted while Brittany helped her back into her dress. She tried her best to pretend that everything was as it should be but she could not help but think back to the things that Brittany had done. Chills ran down her spine and she shivered involuntarily.

"There." Brittany stepped away after tying the knot on her dress and Santana stepped down from the stool and turned around. Brittany looked her up and down and did not bother to hide the bashful smile from her face. From afar, the two of them would've glowed and even a blind man would be able to tell that the two of them were more in love than most couples could hope to be. But they were alone in that room, uninhibited by the judgmental and hateful world outside their doors.

"I love you." Santana said feeling as though she should say it whenever she could since there wouldn't be many chances after her father and mother returned. The effect was profound. Brittany turned bright red and shrunk down a little. She would never get used to being in her Mistress's presence, let alone being so open with their feelings.

"Miss...the Duke and Duchess could return at any minute..." Santana took a step towards her and slipped her hands into that of her servants. She pressed her lips against Brittany's briefly and pulled away.

"They can drop dead in the doorway for all I care." Santana said but nevertheless Brittany pulled her hands away.

"I have had the good fortune to return to work at your side, Miss. I would rather not squander it by being careless." Santana stood up on her toes and kissed Brittany on the cheek. She did not object, knowing that for all her bravado she too wanted to err on the side of caution. While her mother knew full well the extent of their relationship, she could not be so sure that her father would react in the same uncaring manner. Santana gave an understanding nod and looked out the window at the darkened sky. She wondered if her mother had spoken with her father already and she hoped that her mother would keep her end of the bargain. She had her doubts but the only thing she could do was to trust her mother. It was that last part that made her dread the future.

* * *

The Duke could not sleep in the carriage like he usually did. His mind was plagued with thoughts of the future, of the coronation, of the suspicious cloaked figure, of his daughter's impending engagement and marriage. Everything had been thrown into chaos when the King died, and regrettably they would not get better soon. His head ached with anxiety and he had not slept properly in the past few days. He looked forward to returning to his warm, familiar bed in the company of his less than warm but still familiar wife. The Duchess sat opposite him, silent amidst his worries. He briefly wondered what it would've been like to marry a woman who would offer a kind, encouraging word or two whenever his brow furrowed or offered a gentle touch for comfort but he could not see marrying anyone else. Though the Duchess felt nothing of the sort, the Duke was still madly in love with her, no matter her disposition towards him.

He settled back into his thoughts and plans. Prince Finn would need to be crowned as soon as possible to avoid any disputes or false claims to the crown. And the first thing he would need to do was settle the long list of complaints from each of the towns. He had seen the names. It would take no less than a year to address them all and by then, new problems would've surfaced. Even with as many advisors as the King had, there would still be too many. The Duke was too well aware the kingdom was rife with rumors of revolt. Even the old king, wise and fair as he was, could not help the entire country.

It was by no fault of Prince Finn nor even of his father. The blame went generations back to Finn's great-great grandfather, who taxed the poor too much, squandered it on trinkets and pretty baubles and ruined the relationships between their country and their neighbors. It had taken almost three quarters of a century to repair those relations and fill the coffers of the poorest and neediest so that children were not dying in the streets. Even so, much of the country remained hungry and threadbare. The Duke suddenly thought of Brittany when he had first saw her. He remembered how thin she was, how weary she looked and how she walked around barefooted. For a father to be that desperate to sell his daughter...

He shook his head. It had been long since he thought of the young servant. There were moments when he wished that her service had not ended the way it did. He had been rather fond of the girl. But she had endangered his daughter and there was no excuse for it. He wondered where she was, and hoped that she was doing well.

The carriage pulled up to the entrance of their estate and the Duke marvelled at how a sight he had seen for most of his life had suddenly become so strange. It was his home but he felt as though he did not belong there, not at least until the Prince had been crowned. The Duchess had no such misgivings and she walked right on in, leaving her husband to stew in his thoughts. She did a quick scan of the area for signs of Santana and Brittany. Just when she thought they were asleep or off doing God knows what, the two appeared against the railing of the second floor. Santana rushed downstairs with Brittany following cautiously.

"Did you speak with father?" Santana asked.

"Is this how you greet your mother?" The Duchess demanded. Just as Santana opened her mouth to ask again, the Duke walked in and stopped in his tracks when he saw who was standing beside Santana. Immediately, Santana knew the answer to her question. Her father's face showed complete shock and the whole estate went quiet. Brittany started to shake in place and it was all Santana could do not to grab her hand and pull her close, either for comfort or to protect her. It would've been justified because the next minute, the Duke turned a dark red.

"Get out of my home." He hissed between clenched teeth.

"Father, no...please..."

"I will not hear another word coming out of your mouth, Santana!" The Duke yelled. "She will leave the estate right now, willingly or by force. How dare you defy my orders and bring her back here?" He pushed her aside roughly and marched straight up to Brittany. "And you...I have shown you kindness and mercy, and this is how you repay me? Get out of my sight this instant."

"Father, no, this isn't..."

"She stays." The Duchess's voice cut through everyone else's easily. Her commanding tone made the Duke whirl around and face her and her words made him stare at her in disbelief. The Duchess leveled her gaze at her husband.

"You knew...? You allowed this?" The Duke asked. His wife had never liked Brittany and she made her disdain clear every day since he brought her back. To think that she welcomed Brittany back was inconceivable.

"I knew. I was the one who sought her out and brought her here. She is to be Santana's servant once more." The Duchess replied. The Duke closed his eyes and opened the slowly. This had to be a dream, he argued with himself. He had fallen asleep at the castle, exhausted by the day's proceedings. This was simply a dream and all he had to do was wake from it. But when he opened his eyes again, the Duchess, Santana and Brittany were all still there.

"A moment, if you would. In private." The Duke said in a quiet, defeated tone to the Duchess. The Duchess nodded and followed him into the study. He closed the door behind him and as soon as they were out of sight, Santana reached over and took Brittany's hand and squeezed it.

"No matter what happens..." Santana whispered and trailed off. Brittany nodded and gripped her hand harder.

In the study, the Duke struggled to find his thoughts. Had he somehow summoned Brittany back with his thoughts? It could not have been coincidence that he had just been thinking of the girl not minutes before he saw her. Perhaps God was toying with him. And to have the roles reversed; he had always been the one defending Brittany and the Duchess had always been the one ready to cast her out at any moment. He shook his head and leaned against the desk.

"Explain yourself." The Duke ordered. The Duchess took a seat and calmly regarded him.

"I don't see what there is to explain. I ordered her to return and serve Santana as she had for most of her life." She replied.

"You despised her. You objected the second I brought her into this household so forgive me if I find it rather strange that you should welcome her back so readily." The Duke snapped.

"I saw a need and I fulfilled it." The Duchess answered. "Santana needed someone to care for her as Brittany did, I saw no need to find another. She is to be Queen, and she need someone to be at her side to assist her in any way possible."

"You could've easily found another servant, one just as willing." The Duke pointed out.

"Our daughter is very stubborn, if you haven't noticed." She countered. "And we need someone capable of dressing her without Santana making the poor girl rush off crying." The Duke dug the palm of his hand into the hard, wooden desk as he struggled to process her words. He still did not understand it, and he still did not like it.

"No." He finally spoke. "She leaves immediately. I cannot have someone like her, someone so reckless as to put my own daughter in danger for her own personal gain, around the estate." He turned around and looked his wife in the eye and there she saw how final his choice was. It would take only the most incomprehensible action for his opinion to sway. And so the Duchess unveiled her final offer.

"I would forgive you." She said so quietly that the Duke strained to hear her. But he did and at first he did not understand.

"What?" He asked.

"I would forgive you. And I would play the part of the wife you have always wanted." The silence that followed her words could not be described. It was as if the Duke's whole body, from the blood in his veins to the heart beating in his chest, froze in place. To say that he could not believe what he was hearing was a gross understatement.

"It's what you've always wanted, correct?" The Duchess went on. "You have always strained for my forgiveness and now I offer it to you in exchange for her return to this estate."

"Well then you must forgive me for asking you this. What is your intent?" The Duke was not so easily fooled, especially in this matter. It was true, the one thing he wanted and always eluded him was her to look upon him without any disdain in her eyes, for the two of them to move on from his past transgressions. And he had thought it would take an eternity to earn it. For her to offer it so freely, and for such an exchange it was damn near unthinkable.

"I have my reasons." She answered, dodging the question. "And it would do you well not to ask what those reasons are." Her response did nothing to quell the Duke's curiosity but he hungered for her forgiveness more than he hungered for answers. He had dedicated his entire life to make up for what he had done as a youth and so his primal need for her to even acknowledge him as a husband, however fake it was, overshadowed anything else. This was a man who would've given up anything just for the promise of love. The Duchess knew, and so she exploited his one greatest weakness.

Outside, Brittany fidgeted in place, wondering what was being discussed behind the closed doors. Santana did her best to comfort her, offering her a hand to hold and a kiss when she was sure no one watched. When the doors finally opened, both of them stood up straight and watched a defeated Duke emerge from the study. His face looked sunken and despondent and when he caught Brittany's eye, he could offer no answer. He walked right past the two and up the stairs, far too weary to tell either of them that Brittany was to stay. It was the Duchess who walked beside him who nodded towards Brittany in affirmation before following him upstairs. She touched his back hesitantly, and it was the first time Santana had ever seen her mother touch her father so gently. Even so, it carried a sort of sinister dominance. But Santana almost broke down in relief and when they had disappeared into their bedroom, Santana flung her arms around Brittany and Brittany responded in turn with a muffled cry of joy.

When morning arrived, Brittany quietly stole into Santana's room and sat patiently by her side until her Mistress awoke. Brittany watched that magic moment when Santana woke up. Her eyes fluttered open and she watched as her auburn eyes slowly unclouded. They searched the ceiling at first as her thoughts gathered and she remembered where she was. Then they scanned the rest of the room until they found Brittany. Her lips curled up and she took in a deep, contented breath.

"Good morning, Mistress." Brittany whispered, almost as if she was afraid to wake her any further. "Is there anything you need? Water? Clothes?"

"A kiss." Santana requested. Brittany was all too happy to oblige and Santana could not think her life could be any more perfect than the moment when she awoke with Brittany by her side to kiss her in the morning.

The two went down for breakfast together. The Duke and Duchess were already there and the Duke quickly averted his gaze when he saw Brittany. The young servant felt a little embarrassed and she wished he would go back to offering her a warm, ready smile. But past actions could not be undone. Instead, she tried to focus on the feelings that Santana made her feel and she had to fight back a sheepish grin.

After breakfast, Santana had music lessons and Brittany waited outside the room, listening to Santana and her instructor practice pieces that she had never heard before. Down the hall, the Duke approached her but he did not see her at first. His thoughts were elsewhere as was Brittany's. It wasn't until they almost walked into each other that they noticed each other.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace." Brittany bowed. "My head is not where it should be." The Duke nodded in coldly. Just as he moved to continue his walk, Brittany's mouth opened and words escaped her before she could stop them.

"I am truly sorry for what I've done, Your Grace." The Duke stopped and looked upon her downcast face. "I know what happened cannot be forgotten so easily. I know I stepped beyond my bounds, and I know I am not deserving of the kindness you show. But Santana has saved my life and I would give up mine readily for hers. I would do anything to repay her kindness and yours." The Duke inhaled sharply at her speech. He had never known a servant so bold with her words as Brittany was. He had half a mind to beat her for speaking out.

"Look at me." He commanded and Brittany tilted her head upward. In her eyes he saw determination and promise. But they also held a certain fear that he knew all too well. He had felt it himself.

_The greatest kindness is forgiveness._ There was no one who understood those words better than the Duke. Brittany dropped her eyes again. Duke Lopez cleared his throat.

"It is good to have you back." He said slowly, deliberately, but sincerely. Instantly, Brittany's head shot up and her blue eyes sparkled with surprise. It had been such a long time since he had seen such optimism and he realized that as stubborn and angry as he was, Brittany still brought a smile to his face, however small and unnoticeable. He coughed again and resumed his stroll. From afar, the Duchess watched the reconciliation between Brittany and her husband. Her expression was unreadable.

"Your Grace." A tall, thin, square jawed man rushed up to her. "You summoned me?" She presented him a thin piece of folded paper.

"I have a task for you." She said. "You are to find the man described in this letter. It has the name of the town where he was last seen and the name I presume he calls himself still. Should you find him, please, report back to me on his whereabouts. Do not return until you have found him, dead or alive." The man bowed at the waist and took the letter from her. He opened the folded piece of paper, scanned the contents and nodded.

"I understand, Your Grace." He replied and left. She watched him walk the distance to the stable. From there, he took a horse and she waited until he had galloped out of sight before she moved from her position on the staircase. Her plan was in motion, and all she had to do was wait.

After Santana's lesson, her and Brittany walked out back, down the same path that they'd walked so many times before. They sat in the garden, taking in the peacefulness of the mid-afternoon. Brittany marveled at how the garden had changed, how different flora bloomed in place of the ones she remembered. A new path had been made leading further down to the stream. There were more birds too. But the way they sat on the bench in comfortable silence was exactly as it had been. She could not imagine what would've happened had Santana not approached her that rainy day. She turned her head slightly to gaze lovingly at her Mistress. Santana did not meet her gaze at first. She was to preoccupied with a moth that had landed on her lap. When she looked up, she met Brittany's content smile and adoring blue eyes. She blushed.

"Is there something on my face?"

"No, Miss." Brittany replied. Santana laughed out of embarrassment and she stretched out her hand. Brittany hesitated for a second, looking around to make sure that no one was watching them before lacing their fingers together.

"I...ah..." Santana turned a shade darker. "I never...returned...the favor." It took a moment for Brittany to process what she had said. But the minute it sunk in, her face burned bright red and her eyes widened. The two of them could not help but giggle at each other's faces. When they calmed, Santana continued.

"I want to." She said quietly but firmly. Brittany felt something stir in the pit of her stomach when she looked into Santana's eyes. They held the same want in them that she was sure mirrored her own desire when they had first consummated their love. She could not think of anything else that she needed more than to touch and be touched by her mistress. But she did not want to risk being discovered by any of the other servants or worse, the Duke or Duchess. Santana understood her concern.

"When we are alone again." She promised. Brittany squeezed her hand.

"What...what changed your mind that night when you returned to me?" Brittany asked. The question had been in the back of her mind for a while and it was only now that she thought to ask. Santana's finger absent-mindedly traced circles on the palm of Brittany's hand.

"The music box." She replied. Brittany's mouth dropped in surprise. She had completely forgotten about her purchase. She had left it at Quinn's the night she ran away, thinking that she would never get the chance to give Santana her gift.

"The music box?" Brittany repeated, astounded by the revelation. Santana nodded.

"Yes...I was visiting Quinn that night and she had been away. I...I went into your room and found it. Listening to it...I remembered how I felt the first day we met. I had...I had been taken by you the moment I set eyes on you. And it wasn't until I saw that music box that I realized that I had not stopped feeling that way, no matter how much I tried." Brittany's heart swelled with this new found knowledge. It could not have been coincidence. No, there were too many "chance" encounters for it to be simply luck. Brittany was convinced more than ever that whatever fates toyed with their lives intended for them to fall in love with each other. Their relationship was imperfect, but not by any fault of theirs. They had many obstacles that stood in their way of being truly and openly in love with each other. But as Brittany watched Santana bask in the soft rays of the sun, she could not imagine a greater happiness.

* * *

The days that followed passed quietly. Santana and Brittany quickly settled back into life with the other present. Brittany was always there when Santana awoke in the morning, ready to serve her the minute her eyes opened. And Santana did not mind too much that they had to keep their love a secret. Behind closed doors, they snuck kisses and longing looks. The Duke returned to the Prince's side to prepare for the coronation. The Duchess paid them little mind though she tended to appear whenever the two wanted to be alone. Santana could've sworn the Duchess knew just when to interrupt them. But whenever she encountered them, she said nothing and continued about her business. Santana did not know it then, but the Duchess was merely biding her time, waiting for her messenger to return.

It was on the fifth day since the funeral that the tired, out of breath messenger wandered through their doors. The Duchess was just sitting down to eat breakfast when he barged intothe dining room.

"Your Grace, forgive my intrusion." The Duchess stood up and Santana eyed her mother warily. Duchess Lopez led the messenger out of the room and into the study where he sat down, his legs lacking the strength to stand. He had ridden hard all night and wanted nothing more than to sleep in his own bed.

"What have you found?" The Duchess demanded with a fast beating heart.

"He's alive." The Duchess let out a somewhat relieved sigh. At least that part of her plan had gone accordingly. "He's a drunk, living on the streets but he's very much alive. I found him in a nearby town, drowning his sorrows in a tankard of ale while raving about how a witch had cursed him. Duchess Lopez could not help but smirk at that description. So he remembered her, that was good.

"Mark the town on my map." She ordered. The messenger groaned when he stood up and had to roll backwards first to build up enough momentum to propel him out of the seat. She retrieved a small map from the study shelf and unrolled it on the desk where he circled the general area of the town.

"There." He said, pointing to his mark, smudging it slightly. The Duchess studied the location for a minute before rolling the map up again. He waved her hand for him to leave her alone and he obliged, all too happy to return to his room and collapse from exhaustion. The Duchess stared at nothing in particular, formulating her night. She had to set off as soon as possible, so as not to miss her target. She thought of what to say to him, what she could do to protect herself. She contemplated bringing a guard with her but dismissed the idea. She could not afford to start rumors in case anyone else recognized her. She would have to go alone and dress modestly. And she outlined the rest of her plan and how it would be executed.

The Duchess left the estate in the early afternoon, intending to get there by nightfall when the messenger said he turned up at the inn. She arrived at nightfall and could already hear music playing and loud chatter from the inside of the run down establishment. She pulled her drab cloak over her head and walked in. The place was filled with drunk men, eager to forget their hard day's work. A man played music rather poorly in the center of the room. The Duchess scanned the room quickly, eager her target. She found him sitting in the corner, hand tightly clutched around an empty metal cup, swaying back and forth. She walked quickly towards him, trying her best not to touch anyone or anything. Her skin crawled with disgust and contempt for the place and its patrons but she focused on the task at hand.

"Evening, Count." She said. The man tilted his head slowly upward, blinded by the light behind her. "I am sure you remember who I am." Immediately, the man shot to his feet and his eyes searched her face. When his expression turned from disbelief to hatred, she knew he recognized her.

"Come. We have much to discuss." She said as if they had been acquaintances all along. She motioned for him to follow her into one of the back rooms where there was a table, several chairs and no windows. It was the perfect place. The Duchess took a seat, strategically placing the table between her and the door for protection. The hooded figure entered the room sat down abruptly, shaking the floor boards with his weight. His dark eyes glimmered dangerously in the candle light and his black hood masked a long, red scar disfiguring him so that no one would look upon him without pity or fear.

"You called, Your Grace?" He slurred in a hoarse voice as broken as his features. But the title was an insincere formality and his voice dripped with bitterness. The Duchess looked upon him unsympathetically.

"You have healed since last we spoke." She noted.

"Last we spoke you were the one who held the blade that did this." He gestured with black leather gloves to his features. The Duchess's expression did not change.

"I do hope you understand my reasons. You did murder someone I held dear after all." She replied. He chuckled in an oddly fond manner, as if the idea of a young woman wounding him so deeply amused him.

"It has taken me years to understand what had befallen me. I thought it had been the cruelty of God that caused me to lose my fortune, my status, even my family. But it was you, wasn't it? You had plotted everything." He pressed his thumb against his chin. "You took everything from me. I spend the nights sleeping on the streets rather than the bed I was supposed to inherit. My own brother won't speak a word to his disfigured, dishonored sibling." The man spat on the floor. "Why have you come here? What else could you possibly want?"

"I've come to offer you a chance to regain what is rightfully yours from your unworthy brother." He shot up, throwing the chair behind him and drawing a dagger, bringing it down hard on the table until almost half of it was buried in the wood. He roared in rage.

"HOW DARE YOU MOCK ME?" He bellowed. "Tonight I might have the opportunity to cut your pretty little neck. And I intend every minute to do just that." The Duchess stared at the blade, unfazed by his threats. She reached out and touched a finger to the metal.

"I assure you, I do not mock you." She said calmly. "I intend for you to reclaim your title, your wealth, and your estate. Should you find my offer unacceptable, then my life will be yours tonight." He hesitated a moment, his eyes searching hers for deceit but he could never tell with the Duchess. She remained ever shrouded behind her mysteries. She could just as easily keep her promise as lead him into a trap but he had already lost everything. There was little the Duchess could do to make his life even more miserable. He grabbed the back of the chair and pulled it forward again.

"Very well." He said. "I will hear what you have to say. And if I decide I do not like it, then I will take my revenge as I please." The Duchess ran the tip of her finger along the sharp edge of the dagger. She suddenly spoke as if an idea had come to her.

"Tell me, Count." He bristled at her mocking tone, tempting him with the title he once claimed. "What is the surest way to kill love?"

"Love?" He scoffed at the word. "You kill love as you would anything else. Death is the surest way." The Duchess smiled at his response.

"No. You of all men should know that death only immortalizes it." She eyed him with the ghost of a smirk. He pounded his fist against the table.

"I did not come here to listen to your riddles." He warned. The Duchess's hands wrapped around the dagger, tugging it out of the table with a certain amount of ease. She presented the dagger back to him.

"The surest way to kill love," she said as he curled his fingers around the hilt of the dagger. "Is hate." The man sheathed his dagger and placed his hands on the table. She knew him well and he hated her for that. She knew how desperate he was and she preyed upon his weaknesses.

"What would you have me do?" He asked. Knowing that she had him, the Duchess relaxed slightly. The Duchess's lips curled into a cruel smile that the former Count knew all too well. It was the smile he saw on her face right before she drove the dagger into his face.

"There is a family, a cobbler's family by the name of Pierce." She said. For her, things were all coming together. "I need them dealt with."


	23. Part 2: A King

His job was painfully simple, so much so that if it didn't promise of a return to former glory, he would've been offended. "Watch the Pierce family." She told him. "Watch them. When I send the word, you will eliminate them." He did not understand what any of it had to do with love, nor did he understand what this poor peasant family had done to warrant such an order. But he did not question what she asked of him, nor did he care. "When my daughter becomes Queen, the very first thing she will have the King do is have your status returned to you." That was all she needed to tell him.

And so he found a new town to inhabit. His behavior was no different and his presence no cause for concern. He looked the drunken wanderer to most. He had coin from the Duchess, which was all the innkeeper needed to know about him. He watched the family from afar and took note of their quaint lives. There were eight who returned to their small house at the end of the day. He shook his head. They were a sizable family, with many young ones. In his past life, he might've found the task at hand despicable. But the years of being mocked, beaten and turned away had hardened his heart against anything but his own self-presevation. As he reclined against the wall of the inn, feigning sleep, he wondered how long it would be before he had everything and whether he needed to kill an entire family to do so.

* * *

If Finn had thought anything he'd done in the past had been terrifying, it was nothing compared to being coronated. He had nightmares about the crown crushing him under its gigantic weight and he would wake up in a cold sweat. It had been more than a week since the funeral and it was about time he took to the throne. The Duke, as he may have tried, prolonged the coronation as much as possible, but even he could not stave the inevitable. And so Finn, scheduled to take his father's place as soon as the sun rose in the sky the next morning, escaped the castle for the time being.

He liked riding. The cold wind cut at his cheek and blinded him to much of the path but he trusted his horse. It reminded him of his younger days when he and his father would race across the open plain and his father would always let him win. His father was a good man, a good king and a good father. He wanted to be all of those in the future, but he doubted his own ability. The thought of being a father drew his mind elsewhere, to a certain dark haired singer from the countryside.

He loved her.

It was a realization that came naturally after many days of remembering how her voice embraced his tired and saddened soul. He'd been infatuated with her before, but he had no concept of how deep his feelings actually went until they'd properly conversed. She was not an elegant beauty in the way that Santana or Quinn was but she carried a sort of self confidence in her situation that neither of the two possessed. She was so sure of herself and so content in her position.

_How unlike we are._ Finn thought bitterly. His horse slowly came to a stop, familiar in route that Finn wanted to take. He hopped off and sat down next to a stream, the one clearing in an otherwise dense forest. It was where he and his father came to rest when they were hunting or riding but now he came alone.

"Father." He whispered. "Please let me rule fairly and wisely and please let me be half the king you were."

* * *

Santana had developed a cold in the past day. It was nothing terrible, a slight cough and a sniffle but her mother confined her to the bed while her father was out. The Duke had not returned to the estate since he had last left so it was up to Brittany to take care of her sick Mistress. She got Santana's breakfast straight from the kitchen and walked carefully up the stairs, nearly running into the Duchess on her way to Santana's room.

"Mind your step." The Duchess snapped at her. Brittany bowed and apologized, shaking the tray and the Duchess rolled her eyes. Such encounters were rare. The Duchess hardly acknowledged Brittany throughout the day, even when Brittany made mistakes. She found it unsettling to be once again a part of the Lopez household with the Duchess so..._tolerant_...of her, even though she knew exactly what sort of relationship the two girls had.

But she did not dwell long on such thoughts. She had no idea how long it would be before the Duchess or Duke regained their senses and kicked her out. As long as she was with Santana, she would make the most of it, and ignore the actions of others.

When she walked in, Santana was in the middle of a coughing fit. Her face was red and she was trying her best to be a lady, even when her body was not cooperating. The result was a sickeningly sweet scene of Santana trying to cover up her coughs, turning them into little squeaks and yips not dissimilar to the yapping of a pup. Brittany could not help but giggle in her doorway.

"I do not see why I need to be confined to bed rest." Santana said indignantly as she reclined back against her pillow. "It's not as if I am with child." Brittany smiled as she set down the tray of food and drink.

"I should hope not. As far as I know, I've not the means to give you a child, no matter how many times I've tried." Santana's eyes flitted to the door in a panic, startled by how bold and how loudly Brittany said that. She did not want any wandering servants to hear, or worse, her mother. Her mother had a bad habit of showing up when it was least convenient. Luckily Brittany had gotten adept at hiding when it was appropriate for her to do so, especially given how little clothing she wore sometimes. Brittany looked back at the closed door before leaning in and kissing Santana on the forehead.

"You still feel warm." She noted.

"Anyone would feel warm under this mountain." Santana huffed, gesturing to the many layers of blankets piled on her stomach. Brittany seated herself next to Santana and scooped a spoonful of thick, smelly liquid from a bowl. Santana made a face.

"No more." She pleaded but Brittany lifted the spoon to her lips.

"It will help you get better." She promised. "I had the cook add more honey to make it sweeter." Santana grimaced and opened her mouth. Brittany quickly shoved the spoon in before her Mistress changed her mind. The mixture was too sweet, but the aftertaste, with the bitterness of lemon and rum as well as some herbs that Santana could not place, left her gagging. As soon as she swallowed, Brittany had another spoonful ready.

"No more." Santana begged but Brittany shot her a stern look.

"The sooner you get over this nasty cold, the sooner you can leave your bed." She argued.

"I think that's making me worse." Santana glared at the concoction. Brittany set it back down and kissed Santana on the lips.

"For every bit of medicine you take, I'll reward you with a kiss." Brittany offered. Santana contemplated it for a moment, weighing just how much she hated the taste of the medicine against how much she loved Brittany. Finally she folded her arms with a huff and closed her eyes.

"I accept, though with more reluctance than you can imagine." She sighed. Brittany grinned and brought the spoon up again. By the time Santana had taken all of it, Brittany had kissed her at least a dozen times.

Brittany stayed by Santana's bedside as Santana read a book, having nothing else to do. Every so often, Santana's hand would drift down to where Brittany reclined and Brittany would lean her cheek against her Mistress's open palm. Their time together was left undisturbed by any outsiders and it was a peacefulness that Santana found she could get used to. She imagined what it would've been like to live with Brittany, to be able to share a house. She mindlessly turned the pages while her imagination took that thought and built on it. She imagined waking up lazily in the midafternoon to Brittany still sleeping soundly next to her. She thought of eating dinner together, then going out at night for a walk around their garden. Of course they would have a garden, Santana affirmed, she would tend to the garden so that come spring, they would always have fresh flowers for the table.

Santana set down her book and stared at the back of Brittany's head. The idea was so tempting and so wonderful that for a moment she considered running away from her life of nobility and responsibility. Brittany heard the book's pages crinkle as she rested it on the covers and she turned around to see Santana watching her intently.

"Are you well?" Brittany asked, lifting a hand to touch her forehead. Santana caught it on the way up.

"What if...what if I left?" Santana wondered aloud. Brittany gave her a quizzical look.

"Left what? You aren't going anywhere until you've recovered." Santana shook her head.

"What I meant was...what if I left this?" She gestured to the room around her. "What if we ran away together? Found a place out in the country to live where no one would disturb us." Brittany laughed at her words, making Santana cross her arms angrily. "I do not jest." Brittany's smile faded from her face as she realized that her Mistress was serious. Her mouth went dry for lack of words and she started and ended sentences abruptly more times than she could count. Finally a nervous smile returned to her face.

"You must have a fever." She dismissed, withdrawing her hand. "I'll...I will go fetch some water for you." She left the room in a hurry and Santana glanced over at the table standing near her door. A tall silver pitcher sat in the center, accompanied by two glasses. All three were filled with water.

* * *

It was midmorning when the messenger arrived to the small, sleepy town. He was by far the finest clothed man there, a sad testament to how poor the inhabitants were. It wasn't hard to spot the drunk sleeping next to the empty barrels of ale. The messenger had to forcefully kick the man awake.

"For you." He said, handing the drunk a letter. It seemed to sober him up in an instant. The former count stared at the letter with a solemn acceptance and waved the messenger off without so much as a thanks. He waited until he was alone again before breaking the seal. The letter was simple and carried no trace of malicious intent on the Duchess's part. It simply said,

_I thank you for what you've done, may you find fortune and status in your future._

* * *

Brittany sat in the corner of the downstairs study, processing Santana's sudden suggestion. She could not believe her Mistress was serious. It was a hard world outside of the golden, clean and warm walls of the Lopez estate. Santana could not know how hard it was to live out there without food or shelter.

"One might call you neglectful." A voice hissed from the doorway. Brittany started and shot to her feet. The Duchess waited expectantly for an outpouring of apologies.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace, I..."  
"I needn't hear your excuses." The Duchess snapped. "Santana has been ringing for you for the past few minutes. Haven't you ears?" Brittany tilted her head and indeed could hear the distant peal of the small hammer against the metal sides of the bell. She moved to leave the study but her foot caught on the edge of the rug and she stumbled forward, almost into the Duchess herself.

"Be careful." The Duchess warned with the trace of a smile. "We wouldn't want you to get hurt, would we?" Brittany's eyes locked into the Duchess's and she felt a chill run down her spine. There were things that went on in the Duchess's head that Brittany knew were better left unspoken and she did not want to linger anymore in her presence. Brittany hurried up the stairs and entered Santana's room, where another unwelcome conversation awaited.

"Where did you go?" Santana demanded.

"I went to fetch some water." Brittany lied. The sick girl crossed her arms.

"There's water plenty right there." She said, pointing to the pitcher. "And you didn't return with anymore. I'm not daft, Brittany. You left the minute I suggested we run away together."

"You can't be serious." Brittany blurted. Santana's arms dropped to her stomach and she gave Brittany a look of displeased disbelief.

"Why not?" She snapped.

"Because it's a terrible idea." Brittany replied. "You don't know what it's like to have to work your fingers to the bone every day from dawn til dusk. You don't know what sleeping on a cold floor is like, without any fat on your body to keep you warm."

"I would do it for you." Santana promised.

"And I would say that you were mad with fever!" Brittany's voice was louder than it meant to be. Santana opened her mouth to reply but she found that no words surfaced. Brittany doubting the extent of her love hurt her in an inexplicable way. Had she already forgotten that a very long time ago, Santana had made a deal with Quinn that almost threw away her relationship to the prince? How hard would it be to imagine Santana giving it all away?

The Duchess knocked on the door for once before walking in. She noticed the downtrodden faces of the two girls and smiled inwardly, having heard them shouting just moments before. Perhaps their relationship would deteriorate faster than she anticipated.

"You must rest, Santana. Do not forget that Prince Finnian is to become King tomorrow and for that you must be present." The Duchess reminded. Santana looked out the window. It was still light out.

"Yes mother." Santana said quietly. The Duchess turned around and walked out of the door. Santana did not make eye contact with Brittany when she lay down.

"You may go now." Santana snapped.

"Miss..."

"We will discuss it later." Santana rolled over so that her back was facing Brittany. "You heard my mother. I must rest so that I can court Prince Finn tomorrow." Her words were tinged with sarcasm and bile. Brittany's head dropped down. She had not meant to anger her Mistress. She wanted nothing more than to live a life along with Santana, but not at the cost of her Mistress's comfort. But in trying to make her see reason, she had only succeeded in offending her. She silently left her Mistress's side, blowing out the candle as she went, and pulling the thick curtains shut, plunging the room in darkness.

* * *

In the pitch black of night, the former count worked tirelessly to achieve his order. He wedged boards against the windows so that they would not open. He piled firewood high in front of the door. He coated much of the walls with lamp oil and using flint and the small knife he carried with him, light a small bundle of wood. With that bundle he walked around the house, setting the oil ablaze. When a ring of fire burned around the house, he tossed the bundle against the pile of firewood in front of the door and disappeared into the shadows to watch.

The town was too poor to afford a night guard and he had already eliminated the only man who was awake by buying him drink after drink until he passed out. In the shadows, he watched as the flames eagerly licked at the wood and he felt a strange, sadistic feeling of accomplishment.

"No!" The scream tore through the night and ripped into his success. He turned to watch in horror as the father of the family ran towards his quickly burning house.

"How...?" He hissed as John grabbed at the burning wood with his bare hands. He could only think that while he was gathering his supplies, John Pierce had slipped out of his house for whatever reason. John was screaming for help, ruining his plan. Before he knew what he was doing, the former count started sprinting towards him, knife drawn. It was as if he had been possessed by the devil. He did not ask his body to do it, but he saw his right hand grab John by the shoulder and he saw his left hand plunge the knife into his back over and over. A stream of blood coated his face and cloak.

As quickly as it began, it ended. Suddenly more hands grabbed the former count by his arms, legs, shoulder, and neck and wrenched him backwards. John fell to his knees and collapsed. Soon there were people on him as well, picking him up and carrying him to safety. And as the mob closed in on the would-be-murderer, he could hear the sound of hissing as the townsfolk tried to put the fire out.

* * *

Santana woke up in the morning and instinctively reached for the bell next to her but as her hand grasped the dark, worn, wooden handle, she stopped, remembering the fight they had. By now her cough had abated, though whether the concoction had anything to do with it was unknown. She rolled out of bed, stretching her arms and legs after being confined to a bed for the past day. She cocked and ear and could hear Brittany shifting in her room.

_I will not let Brittany serve me today._ Santana thought. _I will be cross with her for the rest of the day, perhaps into tomorrow._ After a full night's sleep, Santana realized how silly her idea was. There was no way that the two of them would live as comfortably as she imagined but it still hurt that Brittany wouldn't even entertain the idea and did not believe Santana would go through with the thought. It was petty, but Santana's pride did not allow her to admit that Brittany was right and it certainly did not allow her to forgive Brittany so easily. She had to punish Brittany just a little bit. The door opened and Brittany peeked in.

"I won't need your assistance today, Brittany." Santana said, turning her head up and away.

"Miss..."

"You may attend to other chores. Please send someone else in your stead." Santana waved her hand but glanced out of the corner of her eye. She smirked a little at Brittany's distressed look. The way Brittany's lips crinkled together, and how her eyebrows furrowed, all of that made Santana want to give in. But she continued playing aloof and Brittany shut the door.

Santana had a little trouble with the servant Brittany sent in. She did not know Santana like Brittany did so when she laced up the corset, it was far too tight at first, and then too loose. It took a few tries before the servant laced it up just right and by then, her mother had been standing in her room watching the event unfold.

"How incompetent." She sneered. The servant apologized profusely before leaving. Santana inhaled and turned around. Her mother looked her up and down with a scrutinizing eye. Eventually, she nodded in approval and the two of them went out to the carriage. Santana passed Brittany on her way out. Her servant was dusting some of the shelves with Noel and she cast her mistress a longing look. Santana feigned ignorance and stepped into the carriage. Brittany let out a sigh.

"That sigh sounds strongly of love-sickness." Noel teased. Brittany colored a little and she shook her head.

"No it...I..." She stumbled over her words. "It isn't that..."

"Who is he and shall I teach him a lesson?" Noel brandished her duster as if it were a sword. Brittany smiled weakly, knowing she could never tell Noel honestly who it was.

"It isn't anyone." She lied. Noel reached out and touched Brittany's arm comfortingly.

"Well, whoever it was to make you so, he should be ashamed of himself."

"It was something I did, rather." Brittany clarified. "Or something I said..." She bit her lip, thinking that Santana may never forgive her for it. Noel gently tapped her on the head with the wooden end of the duster.

"Just smile. You could win the hearts of kings with that smile and he should be no different." Brittany did her best to grin and Noel returned it warmly.

By midday, Brittany was worn out from all the chores. She had grown unaccustomed to such tiring work. The life of a servant was hard in comparison to her job as a tailor's assistant or a flower girl. Her muscles were sore and she sat down, wiping sweat off her brow while Noel clicked her tongue in mock disapproval.

"You've gone soft." Noel scolded.

"A year!" Brittany argued. "A year has passed since I last dusted so much!"

"Well then back on your feet!" Noel said, extending a hand. "It's time we work your flimsy figure until you're ready to tend a castle!" Brittany groaned but she grabbed Noel's hand and the older woman hoisted her to her feet. Just as they stepped out of the room, a servant ran up to them, out of breath.

"Brittany..."

"Steady yourself, Jane, what is it?" Noel said, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder. Jane waved her hand away and stood up, staring Brittany in the eye.

"I just overheard from a messenger, I hope it isn't true, I hope it has nothing to do with you or your family."

"What is it?" Brittany demanded. Her blood ran cold when she heard "family." She felt instantly that something was amiss.

"A messenger...our messenger just returned from a town, north of the castle. He was sent there to deliver a message, and as he was returning, he heard something awful."

"What does this have to do with my family?" Brittany's voice cracked. It was true, her family was located north of the castle but there were dozens of towns located north of the castle.

"He heard..." She stopped to gasp for breath. "He heard that a house had been burned with a family trapped inside, that an old man had been stabbed. It...their...their last name was Pierce." Brittany's eyes burned and she seized the woman's shoulders.

"What did you hear? How many were there in the family?" Brittany screamed, shaking Jane. "The old man, the man, is he alive? Tell me!"

"I don't know!" Jane said, jerking away. "There were... Six? Maybe more? I don't know...I just...I heard the last name and I thought..." Before she could finish her thought, Brittany let out a choked cry and sprinted down the stairs towards the stable.

"Brittany, wait!" Noel chased after her but she was gone by the time Noel was halfway down the stairs.

* * *

Santana yawned, bored by the whole procession. Prince Finn was inside the church where the ceremony was performed. The rest of the officials waited outside patiently for their new King's grand entrance. When Finn stepped out through the doors, the country would have their new monarch, and a new reign would begin.

None of it interested Santana, however. Her thoughts were more preoccupied by what Brittany must be doing at home, what she must be thinking. _Fretting, more than likely._ Santana thought with a small smirk. Her father did his best not to fidget in his official uniform, but she knew it was very uncomfortable, itchy, and better suited for a younger man with a younger form. But her father stood at attention, waiting for the King to march out.

It was around noon when the doors opened and the Archbishop walked out of the building, his robes gleaming and his eyes shining with excitement. His voice was clear, imbued with the authority of God as he announced His Majesty and Sovereign King of the country. Santana watched with a fast beating heart as Finn stepped out, the ceremonial crown resting all too unnaturally on his head, and his long fur cloak shadowing his every step. She noticed his eyes first, how scared they were but how determined he was not to fail. Santana knew she could never understand his burden, she could never feel his terror at ruling a country. As he proceeded down the steps, towards his officials, some with scheming smiles and others with genuine regal for their new King, her father stepped forward, taking to his knee.

"Long live the king!" Her father shouted and his voice rippled and echoed through the crowd. Finn looked around him at the people dropping to their knees or shouting for his longevity. The crown cut into his head, too heavy and too big for him to wear.

_Stand tall, my boy_. His father's voice rang out in his head. _You are king now. A king shows no weakness._ Finn cleared his throat, pushed back his shoulders, and nodded deliberately to his subjects. Santana smiled at him and he offered a quick smile back when he caught her eye.

The feast was long and hearty. By the end, Santana was ready to pass out where she sat. Her father barely ate. His eye was trained on the new King as he interacted with the officials. He kept a close watch on the ones he deemed dangerous to the boy through their self-serving ways. A large hand clapped his shoulder and he whipped around.

"Lighten up." Marquess Fabray chided, his belly full of wine and his cheeks red with mirth. "This is not a time to be cautious, this is a time for celebration."

"I can hardly celebrate when the situation merits caution." The Duke replied with a sigh.

"Old friend, look at your new King. He is twice as large as his father, and his mind will grow into his body. He will make mistakes as all kings do, but is it not our duty to clean up when that happens?" The Marquess sat down beside the Duke, snapping his fingers for a servant to pour more wine into the Duke's cup.

"I take no issue with the mistakes of a King but I do care for the mistakes made by an ill intentioned advisor." The Duke responded, not touching his drink.

"Come now, he has been King for but a few hours. Surely you don't think any advisor can bring down a kingdom in such short a time."

"No. But the wheels of such a downfall may begin turning in such a short time." The Duke retorted. The Marquess hissed with disgust at the sour mood of his longtime friend.

"I would advise you to be careful. With such a sinister take on life, you may not live long enough to protect the king when he needs it most." The Marquess warned. He clapped his friend on the shoulder and stood up to find more entertaining company.

The feast ended late into the night and though the King offered all of his guests a room for the night, the Lopez family was eager to return to their estate, no matter how long a ride. Santana had been accosted all night by harsh glares, cruel whispers, and the constant nagging of her mother to talk to the King. She was eager to go home, to forgive Brittany, and go to bed. Her feet ached from standing and it had rained briefly during the day, making her clothes stick to her skin.

She could not get out of the carriage fast enough when they pulled into the circle of their estate. She ran up the stairs as fast as she could in her large dress and immediately called for Brittany. Many of the servants were still asleep but Santana cared not for them.

"Brittany! Brittany I need you to help me out of these god-forsaken clothes!" She yelled as she marched into the grand hallway. When Brittany did not come running to her side, she wondered if Brittany had already turned in. She folded her arms and opened her mouth to yell again when Noel stepped out from the shadows.

"Miss Brittany isn't here." She said quietly. Santana cocked her head and raised and eyebrow.

"Well where is she if she isn't here?" Santana demanded. Had she gone somewhere for the night? Had she been so distraught that she needed to get away for a short while?

"She left...presumably to go to her family." Santana stepped towards here.

"What?" She asked. "To her family...?"

"Miss..." Noel cast her eyes downward. "Someone attempted to...to murder her family." Santana inhaled sharply.

"What?" She asked again. "Who? How? Are they alright?" Behind her, she heard heavy, slow footsteps walk towards her and she whirled around. The Duchess advanced on the two of them. Santana knew her mother better than anyone else, and though no one else could see it, she saw the corners of the Duchess's mouth turn up ever so slightly when she heard the news. Suddenly Santana knew without asking who had been responsible for the attempted murder on Brittany's family. Before she could think her whole body reacted. She took two large steps forward. Her arm swung backwards, and then snapped back and her palm caught her mother across the face. The sound echoed through the entire house.


	24. Part 2: A Pebble in the Water

Santana's hand stung with the impact and she pulled her hand close, rubbing the tender skin. She could only imagine - and hope - that her mother felt more pain. The Duchess turned her gaze calmly to Santana. She didn't even touch her face where Santana had hit her, as if she could not be bothered to acknowledge it had happened.

"You did this." Santana hissed and raised her hand.

"You'd do well not to make that mistake again." The Duchess warned. "I don't know what you are accusing me of but remember your place."

"You heard." Santana said. The words tasted of venom and bitterness but she lowered her hand. "You heard what happened to Brittany's family. And I know you are behind it all." The Duchess laughed.

"Goodness, I'm glad you think I had the time and the means to murder that small village of a family." She snapped back. "I would not bring myself so low as to go within seeing distance of those beggars." Santana could not contain her anger and her disbelief.

"You are not so stupid, mother, unless I've sorely misjudged you. You had someone do it for you. You've never liked Brittany, and though you may have 'welcomed' her back, I knew you would scheme something like this. You and I both know you're responsible for this attack." The Duchess cleared her throat.

"Watch your tongue, Santana, or your sharp words may cut it off." She said again.

"They are _people_, mother, no different from you." Her mother was eerily composed when she responded.

"No different?" She laughed. "They are nothing. They are rats crawling in the alleys, diseased and disgusting. If God has forsaken them, then I do the same." Santana's mouth went dry when she heard her mother speak. She imagined Brittany cradling her father, crying over his quieted body and she could not even begin to understand the pain Brittany surely felt. In front of her, her own mother showed no sign of even trying to comprehend. She was so lost in her desire for power and dominance that it blinded her to everything else. Santana suddenly felt ashamed to have come from her womb and afraid that she had inherited such a persona.

"God has nothing to do with this." Santana snapped. "It is you. It has always been you. I do not know what happened in your past to make you so, but whatever it is, it will never justify what you've done." As soon as the words left Santana's mouth, whatever dam held the Duchess's anger cracked. She had never seen her mother in such a state but she had never before let on that she knew something terrible had happened in her mother's past. The Duchess's face contorted in such fury that it frightened Santana out of her own outrage. She took a step back as the Duchess advanced on her.

"DO NOT DARE TO SAY THAT WHAT I'VE DONE WAS NOT WARRANTED." The Duchess screamed. "You have no idea what it means to lose something precious so do not pretend as if you are more worldly than I. Do not speak as if you know what I have experienced in my lifetime, you know nothing of what I've done or seen!"

"I do." A voice quietly but firmly drifted from the outside. The Duke walked in, much to Santana's relief. His eyes held a defeated, but still resistant fire. Santana turned towards her father.

"Father…"

"Leave us a moment, Santana." He did not look her in the eye. Instead, he stared down the Duchess as a hunter would stare down an enraged lioness. Santana felt it in the pit of her stomach as she hurried away. Something would change tonight and it would not be a good change. As soon as she was out of sight, the Duke motioned for the petrified servants to approach him. He asked them what had transpired before he arrived and they whispered the same news in his ear. He dismissed them and the servants quickly disappeared into their rooms. The Duke inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. All his years of experience could not bring him to deal with such a scenario. He knew it was well within his wife's capabilities to do such a thing, but he had no proof other than Santana's bold accusation. And though he knew exactly what she would say, he asked anyway.

"Is this your doing?" He asked.

"Would you believe me if I said 'no'?" She asked. The Duke scratched his beard and sighed. If there was one thing his wife could not do, it was feign innocence. He paused for a moment, considering Santana's words before asking the question that had continued to haunt him.

"Is it as Santana says?" He whispered. "Are your words, your movements, and your thoughts still tied to him?" There was no need to specify who 'he' was. There was only one man in the Duchess's mind. The Duke had never asked her so directly and she fell quiet for the first time in the Duke's memory. It was all the answer he needed. He had known all along that she did not love him as he did her, but to see it so plainly and to have silence answer him was enough.

"Pray that by the morning, I do not have guards taking you away where you stand." He said before marching up the stairs and slamming the door to his bedroom.

Things did not get better in the morning. When the Duke awoke, his wife was not beside him. He got out of bed and looked around groggily. Had she slept somewhere else? He rubbed his eyes and stumbled downstairs. The minute his feet touched the ground floor, one of his guards rushed up to him.

"There are some soldiers from the palace here for the Duchess, Your Grace." The Duke's eyes shot open in surprise and a cold settled into his veins.

"On what grounds?" He asked.

"There was an incident two nights ago, Your Grace. A family was nearly burned inside their house. The head of the house hold was stabbed. He died early this morning. The man responsible was caught, Your Grace, but he claims that his actions were commanded by the Duchess." The Duke steadied himself though he might liked to have struck the guard.

"Where is she now?" He demanded.

"The study, Your Grace, as are the soldiers." The Duke dismissed him and walked over to the study. Three guard were posted in the room. The Duchess, who hadn't changed since the previous night, sat in the corner calmly reading a book. When she caught sight of the Duke, she set it down on her lap and looked at him with tired eyes. There were heavy lines under her eyes and he guessed that she did not sleep the entire night.

"Will you please excuse us for a moment?" The Duke asked of the soldiers. They left the room without a word and the Duke closed the door. "So Santana was right...you were responsible."

"One man's word is not proof enough, I remind you." The Duchess replied calmly but she did not fool the Duke. She could see already how betrayal shone in his expression. He sat down next to her.

"You've killed a man! Why?" He asked.

"You would believe the word of a murderer over the word of your wife?" She said, feigning astonishment. She would play innocent until the day she died and the Duke knew it. He stood up.

"I will talk with the King on this matter." He said, turning around.

"I thought you would." The Duchess smiled coyly. He stopped when his hand touched the doorknob. He looked back at her. She was using him, using how much he loved her as a shield against whatever charges may come forth. She knew his heart too well.

"I cannot protect you if there is truth in these charges." He said quietly.

"But not for lack of trying." She responded as if knowing he was lying. He gripped the doorknob until his knuckles turned white and stormed out the door. The palace guards turned to look at him.

"I will go see the King." He said to them. "Do not harm her, do not touch her until I return." His eyes pierced theirs, threatening them with physical harm should they defy his order. With that he hurried down the steps where a carriage, meant for the Duchess, was waiting. He got in, much to the curiosity of the driver and ordered him to take him to the palace.

The Duchess was not the only one who could not sleep that night. Santana found herself staring at the canopy of her bed until the sun rose. Her eyes stung with tears, fearing that Brittany may never return. She listened to the commotion downstairs and heard her father's low voice. She heard the hoof beats of a carriage leaving their estate and she rolled out of bed. Her gaze fell on the bell by her bed. Brittany would not come, no matter how hard she rang that bell. A soft knock on her door drew her attention. Noel walked in.

"Miss...I've come to attend to you in Brittany's absence." She said respectfully. Santana had no energy in her to dismiss her so she simply nodded. Noel shuffled in and drew the curtains open.

"Where did Brittany go?" Santana asked.

"I do not know, Miss. I would think she went to her family, but I know not where they live." Santana sighed and sat down in front of her mirror. Noel picked out a few dresses for Santana to wear. Santana was so listless that she picked the first dress without even looking. She let Noel dress her, not even complaining when Noel pinched too hard or tied the back of her corset too loose. Her thoughts were with Brittany, wherever she may be.

There was no one to greet her at the table when she went down to eat. Her mother was still in the study and refused to come out. Santana sat alone, without the comforts of Brittany at her side or her father smiling and joking at the other end of the table. With all the commotion going on, her lessons for the day were cancelled, as the instructor refused to be tied to a potential murderer. Santana sat alone outside, staring off into the quickly darkening skies. Noel obediently stood next to her. She missed her love, and she wondered worriedly how she was doing, if she was crying.

The thought of Brittany crying brought Santana to her feet so suddenly that Noel gasped and jumped back. _I need to find Brittany._ Santana resolved.

"Do you know anyone who might know where Brittany went?" She asked of Noel. Noel paused for a moment. She could not help but hesitate, after all, it was the Lopez family that had been responsible for Brittany's tragedy. But the genuine worry on Santana's face convinced Noel that Brittany's mistress truly cared and played no part in the attempted murder.

"The messenger." She finally blurted. "He was sent to deliver a letter to the very same village." Santana's head snapped back. If there wasn't enough to convince her that her mother had been responsible, this statement was enough. That their own messenger had gone to the same village, and within a day the murder took place could not be a coincidence. _I need to apologize...on my mother's behalf..._

"Will you please fetch him?" Santana said in a shaky voice. A part of her had hoped that her mother wasn't completely evil. Now she was no longer sure that was the case.

* * *

When the Duke arrived at the castle, King Finn was just finishing reviewing plans for a new bridge. When he caught sight of the Duke, he immediately dismissed everyone else int he room.

"Duke, I was just about to send for you." He said. Finn offered a smile but the Duke could see that something was troubling the boy and he knew full well it had to do with his wife.

"I understand there is a man here who accuses my wife of very grave crimes." He said, cutting straight to the point. The king scratched his head and his smile dropped.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you...He demanded to see you before his trial. Given what he has accused your wife of, I could not deny him. He claims to have evidence to back his words." The Duke stormed through the hallways with the King hot on his heels. He did not blame young Finn for giving into the demands so easily, most newly crowned kings did not have the heart to refuse. What bothered him was that now he had to confront his wife's accuser and worse, discover that there was some truth in the swirling mass of unpleasant rumors.

He walked down the winding stairs and the air became progressively damper and chillier. The guard sitting in front of the giant, barred wooden door stood up immediately and moved to unlock the door.

"Out of my way!" The Duke snapped, snatching the keys from the guards hand and opening the door himself. He walked down the rows and rows of rooms, ignoring the cries for help and innocence.

"Which one is it?" The Duke demanded. The guard shuffled in after. "Where is the prisoner who dare accuse my wife?"

"I'm right here, Duke…" A voice said feebly from behind the third door to the end. The Duke used the ring of keys to open the door to the cell and he stepped in. The rank smell of the unwashed, unclean floor made his nose wrinkle but he kept his expression cold and stern. In one corner, with only a few handfuls of straw to serve as a bed, lay a man. His disfigured face was covered in bruises and welts, presumably from his forcible capture. Even so, the Duke recognized him.

"Will you not say hello to an old friend?" The man coughed, slowly uncurling himself from the corner. The Duke's lips parted, but not his gritted teeth.

"Hello Ivan…" The man smiled and coughed in a manner similar to a cackle.

"So you'll acknowledge me then? You'll know that there is truth to what I said. It was your wife who ordered the death of the Pierce family." King Finn stepped into the cell and immediately backed out because of the smell.

"You know this man?" Finn asked. The Duke did not respond. Seeing Ivan before him made it sink in just how trapped in the past his wife was. The Duke's heart twisted inside him and he grabbed at his chest.

"Is everything alright, Duke?" Finn asked.

"Will you not punish her as well, Your Majesty?" Ivan laughed mockingly. The King looked desperately to the Duke but Ivan continued. "Here is the proof I spoke of if you are still unconvinced." He reached into the folds of his rags and drew a letter. He carelessly tossed it at the Duke's feet. The Duke simply stared at it, and it was the King that walked in, bent down and picked it up.

"Duke...is this..." The Duke did not need to see it. He knew just from seeing Ivan that he was not lying. "If Duchess Lopez is responsible..." The Duke could not stand being in the same room anymore. He stormed out and did not stop until he reached the throne room. The King blindly followed him. The Duke's head spun. If she had been the reason, if she had ordered a murder of a whole family, she could very well die for it.

"I cannot ignore this if it is true." The King yelled after him.

Duke Lopez had thrown away all his selfishness when he married the Duchess. He had never asked for anything, never once begged a favor no matter how dire the situation. He rarely used his status unless it was to protect someone he loved dearly. He was normally a logical man and he was a righteous man.

But his heart would not waver.

"Spare her." The Duke fell to his knees before the King. His voice was soft and it trembled at the thought of losing the woman he loved. No matter how sinister the act, he could not bring himself to see her hurt anymore than he had hurt her in the past. "I beg of you, Your Majesty, her actions are not her own. They are mine." Finn blinked in shock and he found himself at a loss for words.

"Duke, I cannot stand idly by..."

"I will exile her myself." The Duke promised. "I will send her away to the countryside where she will live far away from the luxuries of the life she has known. I will keep a guard at her side to ensure she will not harm anyone. But spare her from any further punishment, Your Majesty. If you need a head, let it be mine." It was because of inexperience that Finn swayed. To see the man who had helped him become a King, who had been there in his time of deepest grief and might soon be his father in marriage influenced Finn's emotions. And as a man who had not quite come into maturity, he made decisions of the heart and not of the mind.

"Under the conditions that you have stated, I will spare her from any further punishment." The King said. "If you keep your word, you have mine." The Duke bowed his head. He could not bring himself to thank the King for all he could think of was that his wife would live. The Duke did not think of what may come of his actions. It was a single selfish plea. But from that one selfish plea would spark a reaction that the Duke could not even fathom.

* * *

Santana could not sit still in the carriage. She shifted every few seconds, wishing that the horses would run a little faster. She bit her lip and picked at her dress until it started to fray. Yet as restless as she was, once they reached the small town, she could not bring herself to get out of the carriage. She sat and peered outside. She could see at the far edge of the town on the opposite side of the road stood a burnt house and her heart plummeted to the bottom of her stomach. She felt a chill just seeing the blackened mass of wood and stone, like a dark skeleton against the blue sky.

"We are here, Miss." The carriage driver said, thinking she might have fallen asleep. Santana sat up straight and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. The driver opened the door and she stepped out. The smell of burnt wood pervaded the air and she looked around. There were people still cleaning the area around the house. Santana searched crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of long blond hair and dreading seeing it at the same time. A man stopped in his tracks as he passed by and she took the opportunity to ask him.

"Excuse me, where may I find the Pierces?" The man eyed her warily and she cleared her throat awkwardly. "Please, I'm looking for the Pierces."

"They're at the inn, Miss." The man replied sharply. "But I don't think they've a mood to entertain guests." Santana thanked him less than enthusiastically and looked around town. It wasn't hard to spot the sign for the inn and she began walking towards it. She was all too aware of the dirty looks that the townspeople shot her but she ignored them and continued on her way. She opened the door to the inn and peered inside. It was quiet, almost as if there was no one there. She could only see the innkeeper sitting at the front.

"Excuse me." She ventured again. "I was told that the Pierces were here." The innkeeper looked up at her curiously. She could see the way he studied her. Clearly the town was very protective of the Pierce family.

"If you don't mind me asking, Miss, what business do you have with them? They've had a rough few days."

"I'm sorry for that. But I need to..." A door upstairs opened and Santana looked up just in time to see Brittany exit the room. Brittany, drawn by the familiar voice, stared down at her Mistress with a measure of surprise. But Santana could not see excitement in her eyes. Brittany's hair was dishevelled and there were dark rings under her eyes. She looked faded and tired.

"Brittany..." Brittany turned around and went back into the room. Santana chased after her and knocked on the door.

"Brittany, please come out. I would like to talk with you." The door opened a crack and Brittany peered out.

"Who is it?" A broken, old female voice asked from inside.

"You should go." Brittany whispered in a hoarse tone.

"Brittany...I came to see if you were well." Santana pleaded.

"As you can see, I'm not. My father is dead." Brittany replied. Santana froze in place. She had not heard that her father had passed away.

"Brittany...I..." She tried to apologize, tried to come up with anything that would express the sadness she felt for her but the words would not come to her. Brittany tried to close the door. Santana's hand shot out and pressed back against her.

"Brittany, please, I want to talk."

"Who is it?" Brittany's mother asked again. Rather than answer, Brittany slipped out and closed the door behind her. She motioned for Santana to follow her into another room where they could be alone. The minute the door shut, Santana reached over for Brittany but Brittany shied away.

"Santana, my family has just gone through something terrible. I buried my father just this morning. I do not have the energy for love." Santana withdrew her hand. She had only meant to comfort her. Brittany sighed and brushed her hair back. Santana thought to ask how the family was coping, but it was pointless. Eventually, Brittany sighed.

"Are the rumors true?" She asked. Santana started and stood up straight.

"What rumors?" Santana knew what she was referring to the minute the words left her lips. Brittany looked at the floor.

"No one has said anything to my family directly but I heard. The towns people say that this was..." She looked up and her blue eyes pierced Santana through. "They say this was your mother's doing." Santana's blood ran cold. She did not know what to say. She could not in good conscience deny that her mother had any involvement. Brittany nodded.

"Brittany, I had nothing to do with it." Santana tried to explain. "I didn't know, I still don't know..."

"I know you would never." Brittany said. Her words were meant to reassure Santana but they did nothing of the sort.

"Will you come back?" Santana asked timidly.

"My family needs me." Brittany responded. "And I can't. Not with your mother there." Santana bit her lip.

"Brittany, she will be punished. If it was her, my father won't let this go." She reached out again with her hand. "I miss you." Brittany did not take her hand. She was too tired. Even though Santana played no part in her family's tragedy, the wound was still fresh. The knowledge that she had worked for the woman who potentially arranged all of it was too much for her to process.

"I need time with my family. I cannot leave them as they are." Brittany said. Santana's shoulders slumped.

"I understand." She could no longer bear the atmosphere and stood up. "I will take my leave." Then as if she had changed her mind, she walked over to Brittany. "I love you." This time, Brittany reached up and touched her hand gently.

"As do I." She said. Hearing that was enough for Santana. She squeezed Brittany's hand before leaving. It seemed silly to head home after such a short time but she had found Brittany and that was enough for her.

"Come back soon." Her voice was more shaky than she wanted and she realized she was close to tears. Brittany could only offer a weak smile in response. But it was not a promise. Santana carried that burden all the way back home.

After Santana left, Brittany went to get some food for her family with what little money she had in her pocket. When she returned, half of her siblings were no longer in the room. Only Mary and the twins remained. Standing near the bed was an old man. Brittany recognized him as the blacksmith who took Nathan in as an apprentice. When Brittany entered the room, he finished up his conversation.

"Please, consider my offer." He said. Brittany waited until he left. The three young siblings immediately dove for the food in Brittany's hand. Brittany eyed her mother questioningly.

"What did he offer?" Brittany asked. Her mother stroked her father's forehead. She thought a little before responding.

"Nathan's master knows a blacksmith who needs a few hands to help around the smithy. It would be perfect for the boys. With your father..." She choked on the words. "With your father gone, we need all the work we can get." Brittany sat down on the floor next to her mother.

"There is something you are not telling me." Brittany noted.

"Nathan would naturally stay here. He is still learning. But we have nowhere to live, and if we move we would be given shelter." Brittany held her mother's hand and waited for the whole truth. "We would move out of the country." Brittany's eyes bulged.

"Out of the country? Where?"

"North. It would be a few days' travel from here North." Her mother replied. Brittany dropped her hand down to her side.

"To leave the country..." Her mother's eyes teared up and she wiped away the wetness at her cheek.

"Nathan has a bed here with his master but we have not a roof over our heads. The innkeeper has been kind enough to let us stay as long as we need. But your siblings cannot all sleep on this floor, Brittany. We must go."

"I will go with you." Brittany announced. "I cannot leave you." Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder and it was only then that Brittany realized she was almost shouting. Her whole body shook and she had been crying for who knew how long.

"You've made a life for yourself here." Her mother said calmly. "It would be unfair to pry you away from it. You have so much here, you've grown up by yourself. How could we ask you to follow us?"

"You would not ask. I would go willingly." Brittany pleaded. "I can help. I can help put bread on the table. It's what father would've wanted."

"Your father would not want you to give up everything for our sake." Her mother responded with fresh tears in her eyes. Brittany fell quiet and she cried into her hands. She did not want to lose her family but at the same time, it meant leaving everything she knew behind. It meant leaving behind all that she loved.

* * *

The guards had not moved an inch from where the Duke left them hours ago and he presumed that his wife had not budged either. He motioned for the guards to part and they did so respectably. His wife was still sitting in a corner and he noted that she was reading the same book and it looked like she had not turned more than a page.

"I talked with the King." He said. The Duchess closed the book and she looked up.

"You've returned." She observed. "And His Majesty, has he decided what day to behead me?" She said it so bluntly, as if she knew it would never come to that. The Duke sighed and looked away from her mocking eyes.

"You are to leave by the morrow." He said. The Duchess's lips thinned as she clenched her teeth. The Duke glanced at her face. "You are to move to the countryside. I've a small estate out there that my father owned. You are to live there with a guard by your side at all times."

"Even when I undress?" The Duchess scoffed, hardly daring to believe her ears. The Duke showed no signs of jest and her wicked smile faded. She looked out the window.

"That was the best you could do?" She taunted. "I thought you were more powerful than that. The King was a baby when his father died. You practically pulled the boy to his feet. Surely you have more influence." It was no longer about her punishment, it was about humiliating him as much as possible. She cared very little what happened to her. The Duke, however, would not sink to her level any more. He stood up straight and looked her in the eye, for once feeling as though he should salvage whatever he had left of his pride.

"I expect you will be arranging your things. Take whatever you need. I must go over plans for the King tomorrow." With that he walked out the door and closed the door softly. The Duchess looked around the study at the place she had reluctantly called her house for more than two decades.

"I've done all I could." She whispered into the air. She could almost hear a voice whisper back to her, _what have you done? What was the purpose of it all_? It was a question she had not the heart to answer.

Santana arrived a little later than her father. When she walked in, the air was tense and silent. She looked around but even the servants were nowhere in sight. The only human presence were the guards standing in front of the study like menacing statues. She heard a crashing noise from upstairs in her father's main study and hurried up to see if everything was alright. She opened the door and saw a dark red stain on the floor.

"FATHER!" She burst into the room only to see her father bent over a spilt cup of dark red wine. Her heart felt like it would explode.

"Santana..." He stood up instead of picking up the cup.

"I thought something had happened." Santana replied. Even if it wasn't blood, her father rarely drank. A chill ran down her spine. The Duke stumbled backwards, clearly inebriated and sat on the edge of his desk. His head lolled forward and the sight of her father being drunk disturbed Santana.

"Something has happened." He sighed. "Your mother is leaving us." The words hit Santana will the full force of a punch to the stomach. But she took a deep breath and steadied herself.

"Leaving us?" She repeated, at a loss for words.

"Do you know what the punishment for murder is?" He asked. The blood drained from Santana's face. Surely her mother wasn't going to be put to death. The Duke smiled faintly. "I persuaded the king to exile her instead. She will go somewhere far away where she can do no harm to anyone else." Santana's throat went dry.

"When?" She croaked.

"She's to leave by sundown tomorrow." The Duke's hand lashed out, knocking the bottle of wine perched precariously at the edge of the desk halfway across the room, splashing the floor and walls with dark red. Santana jumped in place, frightened by her father's sudden anger. The rage from his youth suddenly surfaced as it had only once before with Count Baste. He grabbed a second bottle and threw it across the room where it shattered against a bookshelf, staining the books and paper.

"Leave me." He ordered in a low voice." Santana did as he bade her. There was a darkness in her father's eyes that made her legs tremble and she shakily left the room. As soon as the door closed, she heard the muffled angry scream of her father and she raced into her room. She covered her ears with a pillow, not wanting to hear any more. She had no one to hold her or kiss the tears away while her family fell apart around her.

_Brittany, I need you here with me! _She pleaded silently, crying into her linens. _I need you._

* * *

Brittany awoke in the dead of night. She sat up straight and gasped aloud. Her heart was pounding and her whole body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Her brothers and sisters were crowded around her, some sleeping on top of each other in the small room. Little Mary had curled up with her head resting on Brittany's stomach and she squirmed when Brittany awoke. Brittany gently laid Mary down on the floor and tip-toed out of the room.

Her heart felt uneasy and the room was unbearably warm with all nine of them crowded together. When she stepped outside, it felt like stepping from the heat of a forge into the dead of winter. She shivered and rubbed her arms for warmth. She had dreamt of Santana. Her Mistress cried out for her but it was difficult to tell if it had really been her Mistress who called out or if the cry had come from her own mouth. A small part of her blamed Santana when she saw her earlier that day but Santana was not at fault. She had merely been a face similar to the Duchess and Brittany could not help but feel some hatred well up within her. Now that it had passed, she felt guilty for treating her as she did but she could not see how to return to the Lopez estate without wanting to attack the Duchess. And yet after that dream she yearned for her Mistress.

"You'll catch a terrible cold like that." Brittany gasped and jumped when she heard the voice. Her mother came out, wrapped in a thin blanket which she opened up so that Brittany could share it. Brittany mumbled a quick thank you before bending down so that the blanket reached over her shoulders. The two of them sat down on the cold grass and her mother studied her face.

"You seem more beautiful than when I last saw you." Her mother noted. Brittany blinked and stared at her mother with surprise.

"Your vision must not be what it used to be." Brittany laughed. Her mother reached out and brushed Brittany's hair back.

"No. You've always been beautiful, Brittany. But now you glow with a radiance that comes with maturity."

"You must still be asleep." Brittany said again, blushing from the compliment. Her mother smiled knowingly.

"I know love when I see it." She said cheekily, trying to lighten the mood. Instead of doing that, however, Brittany's face fell. Concern flared up in her mother's chest. "I shouldn't have mentioned it." Brittany smiled.

"It's alright, mother." Brittany replied. She had hoped her mother would leave it alone. Just thinking about Santana made it difficult not to go back to her. Her family needed her now. As if her mother could read her mind, the old woman sighed.

"You are still in love." It was not a question, it was a statement. Brittany shrugged off the blanket and scooted a short distance away. She did not want to respond with "no". That would be a lie.

"Everyone needs me now." She said with resolve. "You need me."

"No." Her mother's voice was firm. "Does he love you back?" _She_, Brittany mentally corrected.

"Mother, even if he does..." Her mother interrupted her by standing. In the moonlight, her figure cast a shadow over Brittany.

"There is someone that loves you. That is not a trivial matter. You are too young to know true regret. If you leave him behind." Her mother took Brittany's hand in her own. Brittany noted the wrinkles on her mother's skin but her grip was strong.

"I must go with you." Brittany repeated. "It is only right."

"I told you once before," her mother reminded her. "Never give up on love because it is right." Brittany found herself at a loss for words. It was true. She'd thrown away Santana's love once before because it was, in her mind, the only choice she had. Her mother touched her fingers to Brittany's face and wiped away fresh tears that Brittany did not even know she'd shed.

"You father would never have forgiven you if you had chosen to follow us." Brittany pulled her mother into a tight hug and wept into her shoulder. Her mother wrapped her arms around her eldest, knowing that this was their personal goodbye. There would be farewells in the morning, but this was her time to say goodbye to a daughter she had not raised but loved more than Brittany would know.

* * *

It was a grey noon when Santana awoke. The house was quiet, even though all the servants were up. But Brittany was not there to wake her and she was sure that neither of her parents could be bothered with what time it was. The entire estate felt tense. It dawned on her that it could very well be the last time she saw her mother. She tiptoed out of her room and went to where her mother and father's bedroom was. She placed her ear against the door, not sure if she would hear anything. She knocked on the door. When no one responded, she opened and went inside.

Her mother sat in front of the dresser, slowly combing her long hair. She made no indication that she noticed Santana's appearance. Santana walked over to her mother and stood quietly, wanting her mother to say something. But her mother went on ignoring her own daughter. Santana wanted her to say anything, to apologize, to say that was sad to leave, anything that gave some sort of hint that she cared for the family she was about to leave. Instead, the Duchess brushed her hair.

"Why did you do it mother? Now that you've failed, what did you ever hope to accomplish?" Santana blurted. Her mother set down her brush. Santana had never seen her mother so bare before. She wore no makeup, her hair was down and Santana could see the wrinkles lining the edges of her eyes.

"Your father is a fool." Her mother replied, not answering her question. "I knew he would defend me when the accusations came. I knew that man would say it was I who ordered him. But even if it were true, even if the King believed him, what do you think would come of that? The man I hired is nothing while I am a noble. King Finn would pardon me in an instant." Her mother turned her gaze upon her daughter.

"But why? Why would you do that?"

"To make Brittany hate everything you are." Her mother replied. "It was the only way I could truly separate you two. If that stupid bastard had succeeded, in you Brittany would see the nobles that pardoned the woman responsible for her family's death. In you she would see me because you are my daughter. And in you she would see her own failings. So how long do you think she would let herself love someone like you?"

"Our love is stronger than that." Santana said quietly but firmly. Her mother smiled.

"Is it?" She wondered aloud. "It's a shame we will never know. When is the girl returning?" Her words made Santana shiver and she left the Duchess back to her own, sad devices.

A little while later, her mother descended the stairs down to where the Duke and Santana waited. A carriage had been prepared to take her to her destination, where ever it may be. Servants carried down her belongings. As she passed by, her simple dress and her long, loose hair brought a flood of memories to the Duke's mind. She looked as she had when he first saw her. Around her neck hung a simple, wooden necklace. The Duke had seen the necklace only once before, that dark dreary night when he murdered her lover. His eyes fell to the ground, knowing exactly where her heart still belonged.

The Duchess spoke not a word as she passed by, with her servants following close behind. Santana lifted her head a little to watch her mother get in the carriage. She knew she should've felt something akin to pain or regret but she only felt numb. The woman leaving had never been a mother to her. She wondered what she would've done in her mother's situation. The Duke watched stoically as the carriage started off. He felt bitter towards her, but he could not deny that love still lingered. It was his burden to carry and he did not once believe it had not been his fault from the start. But he was a grown man with responsibilities and he did not linger in the past. He could not say the same for his wife.

"Come, Santana." He wrapped his arms around Santana's shoulders and started when he realized her shoulders nearly matched his in height. He looked at her through his weakening, misty eyes. He was a grown man with a grown daughter and his mouth dropped a little when he saw that Santana had her mother's feminine but strong jaw. How had the years passed by so quickly?

"Father?" Santana asked. How long had it been since she last called him "papa" instead of "father?" It suddenly occurred to him that he had just lost his wife, and soon he would lose his daughter as well. Once the Prince asked for her hand in marriage, he would be alone. "Father what is it?" He shook his head and patted her shoulder.

"It's nothing." He lied. "Let us go back inside." Santana obediently followed him indoors. Just as she walked through the door, she turned around one last time. In the distance, just at the very edge of the estate, she could make out a tall blond girl walking towards the house. Her heart jumped in her chest and she turned around and walked back down the steps. She waited patiently until Brittany stood right in front of her. Santana would not stop smiling and Brittany broke out into a big grin. Despite all that had happened, everything seemed like it would be as it was again. But even though there was peace again in the house hold, it came at a terrible price. The Duke could not rest his empty and hurt heart. Worse, he did not know what the consequences of his actions were. A small pebble had been dropped in already unstable waters and the ripples of his plea to save his wife would extend across the country.


	25. Part 3: The Wall Crumbles

_God __must __hate __me_. Quinn decided as her stomach churned again right in the middle of breakfast. Ever since last night's dinner, she'd been feeling somewhat off. She thought it might've been the veal, it smelled funny to her but her parents had eaten the same thing and they looked perfectly well. She held in her sickness while her father rambled on about how the country had taken in an idiot of a king. Never mind that Finn had been king for little more than a month. The latest decision he made was to give back some poor man's title and land; land that her father had taken when the man's father passed. Quinn rolled her eyes at her father's complaint. It sounded like the king was being, God forbid, _fair_.

"This never would've happened if the old king were alive. He would have the sense to uphold the late Lord Abrams' dying wish to disown his son!" Marquis Fabray snapped, cutting into his breakfast with fervor, inflamed by the whole topic.

"His land was of little use anyway. Poor soil, weak workers, and let's not forget it is on the border of our good neighbor. Heaven knows when they'll sense weakness and try to claim their share of our country." Marchioness Fabray tried to reassure him. It did little to settle his mind. He scowled into his wine. The Marchioness realized she could not calm him down and instead turned to Quinn. "Quinn, you have barely eaten. Is everything alright?"

"I'm not that hungry, mother." Quinn replied.

"You've hardly eaten all day. It was the veal, wasn't it?" Her mother guessed.

"No, mother, I..."

"I told you, I don't like that new cook you hired. She gives me dirty looks every time I see her. I think she may be poisoning our food. You should get rid of her immediately." The Marchioness demanded.

"Perhaps it is because you demand too much." Quinn muttered to herself but her words were louder than she intended and the Marchioness glared at her.

"That tone is not befitting of a lady. Perhaps you really are ill. Go up to your room and I'll send some food up later." Her mother commanded. Quinn rolled her eyes. She wanted to leave anyway and she pushed herself away from the table, stomping up the stairs. It had been more than a month since Duke Harrington humiliated her and since then, her parents seemed to have given up on marrying her to someone of a higher class. Instead, they contended to match her with lesser nobles, often far too old and disgusting to look upon. She wondered if her parents were mocking her or punishing her for her failure but even so, it was too much.

She slammed the door to her room and sat on her bed. The way things were going, she would be no better off marrying that idiot stable boy Puck. The thought startled her and she sat up straight. She had not thought of Puck for a very long while. She had been too engrossed in her own problems that she had simply forgotten him. But now, thinking of his dark skin and his strong arms holding her carefully, she wondered how he was doing and if he still thought of her.

_It __would __be __better __if __he __didn__'__t__._ She thought, casting her gaze down at her hands. _Nothing __good __would __ever __come __of __it__._

* * *

Puck ran his hands along the small of Noel's back, kissing at her neck while she giggled at the way his lips ticked her skin. He bit down hard enough to leave a deep red impression and she pulled away, squealing with displeasure.

"You are fortunate that our clothes hide that spot!" She exclaimed angrily. Puck growled and wrestled her into the ground. He propped himself over her and she lay passively and invitingly. Her hair was spread wildly under her and Puck reached for his belt. Her brown eyes bore into him and he paused, remembering the cloudy, wet, blue eyes of a certain noble woman. He remembered her small, soft cries when he took her and he marveled at how delicate they sounded in comparison to the women he normally bedded. But it was what she said after as she slipped into sleep that made him remember her the most.

_"__Please __love __me__."_ She had pleaded. She probably did not even remember her desperate request but Puck did. It was exactly then that he fell for her. He did not question why she had said it, nor did he ponder the tragic circumstances that had caused her to utter the words. Instead he silently fulfilled her request. And it suddenly felt wrong to be there with Noel. He pushed himself away from her and sat away from her, all the lust drained by the memory of Quinn. Noel angrily got up.

"What are you doing?" She demanded.

"Nothing." Puck replied.

"Clearly." Noel sneered. She meant to berate him more for his sudden disinterest in a warm female body but she saw sadness in the way his shoulders sagged. Years of experience told her that he had not been thinking of her when he pulled away. She smoothed her mussed hair and heaved a loud sigh. She placed a hand on his shoulder and by that action, they were no longer lovers, but companions. She did not ask questions; it would hurt his pride. She simply got up and left after that small gesture. They were nothing more than friends and occasional lovers. She was old enough to know that he was too young to be more than that.

When she left, Puck ran his fingers angrily through his hair. He had tried everything to forget her but nothing worked. He still wanted Quinn and his heart would not settle for anything less. He stood up. There were chores to be done, hopefully they would distract him from thinking of her.

* * *

Santana heard the delicate shatter of China as she reached the top of the staircase. It wasn't the noise that scared her and made her stomach drop, it was the stream of curses that followed. She gripped the railing as the swearing grew closer. Her father walked into the entrance hall, his hair a wild mess from last night's indulgence in wine and his temper no doubt the aftereffect. He started up the stairs but paused when he noticed Santana. Immediately the hard look on his face melted into one of exhaustion. The rage faded from him, replaced with shame that his daughter had witnessed his actions.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, princess." He sighed. Santana would have been alright if he had taken her into his arms and embraced her as a father would. But he walked passed her without another word or acknowledgement. He walked down the hall, passing Brittany who had an armful of clothes. He paused a moment and Brittany bowed respectfully. When she looked up, she saw something in his eyes resembling anger - as if he blamed her for everything that had happened. He had always regarded her kindly, but as of late he could not bring himself to look upon the young servant without some measure of hate. It sent chills down Brittany's spine. She hurried past him and he disappeared into the study. Brittany took her place next to her mistress. Santana watched the study door close. It had been a month since her mother left and everyday her father's mental and physical health declined. She did not understand why he loved her mother, but it wasn't until she left that Santana saw just how deeply he did.

"He has much on his mind." Santana said quickly. Brittany nodded. "What with the unrest..." She stopped quickly and cast a worried look over at Brittany. She did not say it but they both knew the cause. John Pierce's death, and the king's leniency on the woman who did it sparked rage across the country. King Finn meant to show mercy, but the poor citizens saw it as favoritism towards the rich. They claimed that if it had been a peasant who murdered a noble family, there would have been an execution. Suddenly reports of violence came in from all over the country. The lower class began attacking city guards, setting fire to their masters' farms. The King dispatched soldiers to the worst areas, but there were too many. The country was on the verge of chaos and the actions of their two families had been the spark that started the fire.

Santana glanced around for spying eyes before planting a kiss on Brittany's cheek. Brittany smiled.

"Come." Santana said as she continued down the stairs. Brittany did her best to smile for her mistress but the mood around the estate was heavy and weighed on her shoulders. They passed a servant cleaning up the shards of porcelain and Brittany could see the red mark on his cheek that matched the rings on the Duke's hand.

"What shall we do today?" Santana asked. Brittany snapped out of her trance. Santana went on, ignoring Brittany. "I think we ought to take advantage of this fine day and stroll around the estate." Brittany looked outside. In fact it was anything but a "fine day." Clouds hung ominously over the horizon and they headed for the estate. The smell of rain pervaded the air around them. She turned back to Santana and opened her mouth to object. But Santana was already halfway to the door. Brittany could not fight that determination. She obediently followed her mistress.

Santana's hair whipped wildly in the wind and it burned her eyes to stare directly at the horizon. But she stayed there, continuously brushing the hair out of her face. Brittany came up behind her.

"Miss, it's a little windy out here. Wouldn't it be better to go inside?" She asked.

"It's fine." Santana replied with a faint smile. She turned to face Brittany but caught sight of her father staring at the two of them. The smile dropped from her face. The Duke stepped out onto the brick path.

"I have some business to attend over at the castle." He said. "I will probably be a few days, no more than four. Take care of things while I am away, would you?" His speech was slightly slurred and Santana guessed he had taken to drinking when he entered his study. She prayed quietly that he would not make a fool out of himself when he entered the castle grounds and that he would sober up during the ride. Without waiting for her response, he turned right around and walked out the front entrance where a carriage was already waiting for him. Santana's eyes burned again, though this time not from the wind. Her father had said nothing about her foolishly standing outside in the impending storm. He showed no concern for her well-being.

"Let's go back inside, Brittany." Santana whispered. It wasn't the wind that chilled her to the bone.

* * *

"Your Majesty, please, there are things that need to be done."

"I'm through with it all!" Finn's hand lashed out, catching a priceless porcelain vase and smashing it on the ground. Servants rushed to it like ants to a meal and cleaned it up in a matter of seconds. "I'm king! If I order you not to bother me, then you will not bother me!" The advisor sank back.

"Please, your Majesty, there are people from all over the country calling for you. They need a king."

"They want my head." Finn replied somberly. He sat down on his throne, sliding down enough so that only his shoulders touched the back of the chair. His posture pushed the crown over his eyes, and he took it off, much to the chagrin of his advisor.

"Please, Your Majesty, sit up properly."

"I'll do what I want." Finn snapped but his voice was less cutting. He was tired already and it was barely morning. All night he had to contend with the peasants throwing rocks at his wall and window. It left him with little sleep and a short temper.

"I've sent for Duke Lopez, he will be able to help." The advisor said. "But you must learn to make decisions for yourself."

"Then I order the guard to send them all away! By force if needed!" The guards in the room stiffened, as if they were prepared to carry out the King's order. His advisor looked around anxiously, motioning for them to relax.

"Your Majesty, that is not the solution. They want answers from their King, not violence."

"They don't?" Finn laughed bitterly. "They carry torches and have weapons hidden under their rags. They want blood. They want nothing more than for me to give them a reason to storm the castle." He sat up a little. "Not that I haven't already." His advisor wrung his hands nervously. He stole up near the throne and placed his hands behind his back, unsure of how to approach the volatile boy.

"Sir...the Duke will arrive any minute. Perhaps you will listen to his council."

"Let him run the country then." Finn muttered too quietly to hear. "He would do a finer job." Finn curled his legs inward, as if trying to block out the rest of the court. He rubbed his eyes hastily when he felt them burning with tears of shame. He could imagine his father looking down on him from heaven. The kingdom he had worked so hard to rebuild was now falling apart in the hands of his incompetent son.

* * *

Quinn felt another wave of nausea overwhelm her system. She sprinted towards the nearest bucket, tripping over the hem of her dress but somehow making it in time to empty the contents of her stomach in a matter of seconds. She lifted her head for a moment before another wave seized her and she dry retched. When the nausea subsided finally, she groaned and sat back, wiping the corner of her mouth on her sleeve. Being delicate was the least of her concerns. She thought back to last night's dinner, trying to pin point what had been the cause of her illness. _It __was __the __apples__. __I __knew __they __weren__'__t __washed __properly__. __They __smelled __of __decay __and __livestock__._ But a part of her dismissed that idea as too simple. _I __do not__usually __get __this __sick __unless __it __is __that __dreadful __time __of __month__._ Quinn thought to herself.

And then it hit her.

_I __have __not __had __it __in __more __than __a __month_.

She had heard of what missing a month meant. She'd heard it from the excited servants after they had married, she'd heard it hissed between gossiping nobles about some young tramp who bedded his own cousin. Suddenly a different kind of nausea welled up in her stomach and though she fought this bout off, the feeling was worse. It can't be. It can't be. I haven't...Her breath came in as a gasp. Puck. But the odds were astronomical. How could one night produce a child? She had heard that it took many tries, and couples lamented that it often took years.

An elderly servant walked into the room and cried out in shock from seeing Quinn bent over the bucket. She quickly regained her composure, even managed a laugh.

"Was the breakfast that terrible?" She joked. "Be careful now, one might mistake this for morning illness." It was meant in jest but Quinn pushed herself off the ground and slapped the servant.

"How dare you insinuate such a thing? Get out!" She screamed. The elderly servant apologized profusely as she scurried out of Quinn's room, leaving the bucket where it was. When she left, Quinn slammed the door shut and fell upon her bed, weeping. It can't be. It can't be. She tried to convince herself over and over again but deep down she knew the truth.

Even though she felt faint from before, her body found renewed energy in her panic and she stood up. She didn't bother changing, she simply walked out of the room and down the stairs, picking up speed as she descended. She was in a full sprint by the time she left the front door. The rain beat down on her head, ruining her hair and dress. Mud coated her shoes and socks and dirtied her dress. Her feet took her in the direction of the Lopez estate: the last place she wanted to visit just earlier that morning. But in her frightened and hysterical state of mind, she thought perhaps if she found him, if she found Puck, he could correct the mistake he made.

* * *

Brittany stirred from her sleep by a loud clap of thunder. She jerked awake, reaching for her Mistress but found only slightly warm sheets. She sat up and checked under the bed, thinking wildly for a moment that Santana had taken cover. But she was not there. Another clap of thunder sounded and Brittany felt panic welling up in her chest. Where was she? She had to be hiding somewhere.

"Miss?" Brittany called out as she dashed from the room. "Miss? Where are you?" Rain beat down overhead. She opened up all the rooms on the floor and kept calling. She reached the edge of the steps just as a flash of lightning struck the horizon. She looked outside and gasped in shock.

"Miss!" She screamed, sprinting down the steps. Santana stood calmly outside, letting the rain soak through her hair and clothes. Brittany grabbed her Mistress by the arm and tried to pull her back inside. Santana resisted.

"It's nice." She said. Brittany could feel the rain bleeding through her clothes. When thunder rumbled overhead again, Santana jumped a little but stayed where she was. Brittany slipped her hand into Santana's, not caring who saw. If Santana was crying, the rain perfectly hid the tears. _Everything __is __falling __apart __around __her__..._Brittany thought, watching her Mistress as she stared across the estate.

"Come." Santana said, closing her hand around Brittany's. She pulled her away from cover.

"Where are we going?" Brittany asked. Santana turned around and pulled her into a kiss. Brittany pushed her away, slipping out of her grasp. She turned around and surveyed the estate for prying eyes.

"Miss!" Santana was not so easily deterred. She grabbed Brittany's hand again and with a low, husky, urgent voice bid her to follow. Santana forced a smile but Brittany clearly saw the desperation on her face. _She __needs __escape __more __than __ever__._ Her feet came loose from the ground and she followed Santana into the trees, away from the eyes that judged her every movement.

When they were deep enough into the woods that Brittany could not tell which direction from which they came, Santana grabbed Brittany by the wrist and crushed their lips together. Brittany's lower lip burst open when it hit Santana's teeth and she pulled back in pain. Rather than ask if she was alright, Santana pushed Brittany backwards until she pressed her up against a tree and could go no further. The bark was rough against Brittany's bare legs and bit through her fabric. Parts of the bark broke off and clung to the linen and would serve as a reminder of their actions when Brittany undressed later that night. The feeling was uncomfortable: being pressed up against an uneven surface that scratched deep red marks along her back but then Santana pressed her lips against Brittany's bloody ones and the kiss made all the discomfort vanish.

"I love you." Santana said as her hands hurried along the hem of Brittany's skirt. Brittany gasped aloud when Santana's fingers brushed along her thigh. She could feel the rain streaming from the top of Santana's shoulders, down along her arm and to where her fingertips met Brittany's skin. Brittany's hand dug her nails into the back of Santana's neck, anticipating where her hand would go next. Goosebumps formed along her spine and she moaned into Santana's open mouth. Santana's thumb found the small, delicate, raised bump at Brittany's core purely by accident, sending Brittany arching off of the tree. Santana pulled back, earning a whimper from Brittany.

"No, Miss, please..." Brittany begged, still using formalities and Santana's hand was right there. It occurred to Brittany, somewhere in the back of her mind where coherent thoughts still lived, that it was thundering loudly and yet she had not felt Santana flinch once. She thought to mention it but Santana's fingers dipped inside her and whatever was left of her her sanity disappeared. Her fingers found and promptly lost their way in Santana's messy wet hair and she arched into Santana's gentle curling. Her shoulder blades screamed in pain as the motion dug them further into the rough tree trunk but the pain was an afterthought the way Santana was so deep and good in her. Santana watched Brittany's face carefully. Her eyes fluttered open and shut, and the grip Brittany had on her waist was painful. Seeing Brittany's mouth open and close, mouthing words like "more" and "please" made Santana feel needed and appreciated. She needed no encouragement, letting go of Brittany's shoulder with her right hand. It found its partner underneath Brittany's skirt, taking over the task her left hand had previously done. Brittany was slick with desire and rain. Her hair, was plastered against her face and stuck in the cracks of the bark behind her. She looked mad or wild, and it made Santana want her more.

She leaned over and bit down on Brittany's collarbone. Brittany gasped at the way Santana licked over the reddening mark. Her mouth and breath heated up her skin. Suddenly her nerves stood on end from her scalp and, like the rain cascading down her body, the familiar, agonizing, and wonderful sensation of release travelled downward until she buried her face into Santana's shoulder and bit down on her soft skin. The rain killed her screams before they travelled too far and Santana held her as ripple after ripple of pleasure shook her repeatedly.

* * *

Quinn ran through the forest, ignorant to the branches cutting her arms or the bugs flying into her face. Her tears made navigating difficult, but she was hardly trying to travel in a straight line. She was running with a destination in mind, but she cared little about how she got there or in what state she arrived. All that mattered was getting there and…

The hem of her once blue, now murky brown dress caught on a bush and she stumbled forward, her palms hitting the grass and broken branches. She winced at the pain, pulling her hand close to her chest and hissing when she saw blood spring from her scratched wrist. She looked at her skin, covered in mud, dirt, and leaves. What a sorry image she must have cast on anyone or anything looking. She broke down, clawing at the ground, praying to God and begging to the Devil that she would wake from this ever worsening nightmare. She had no recollection of how long or far she ran. When the worst of her sobs subsided, she looked up and wiped her eyes against the back of her dirty hand. She picked herself up, intent on reaching the Lopez estate. She walked forward, less desperate but no less hopeless. The more she walked, however, the more she feared she was truly lost.

_Perhaps __I__'__ll __die __here__. _She thought dramatically. _I __would __never __be __found__. __Or __if __I __were __to __be __found__, __let __it __be __some __beast __to __devour __my __body__. _

The longer she walked, the more she believed it to be the case. For a good hour she wandered, thinking she'd gone in a straight line but never truly sure. Just as she was about to give up and walk in a different direction, she heard noises, like branches crackling. She stopped and despite her earlier hope that maybe a beast would find her, she feared for her life. She ducked down behind a shrub and held her breath, listening for what it might be. For a while, all she could hear was the rain heavy on the leaves and ground around her. She thought it might've been her imagination.

"Miss…" A soft voice said. Quinn recognized that voice, though in her dazed state she could not properly place it. She peered over the leaves. When she saw who it was… and what they were doing, all other thoughts were stricken from her mind.

Santana leaned over and kissed Brittany passionately on the lips and Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana, moaning into it. Quinn's hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened with shock.

_God __have __mercy__..._she thought to herself repeatedly. They said something in a hushed tone and Quinn could not quite make it out but they giggled to themselves and left back in the direction of the estate. Quinn sat in the rain, hardly daring to believe what she had just witnessed. She had always thought their relationship to be queer, that Santana should not have cared for Brittany the way she did. But this...this was...

"_The __devil__'__s __work__." _She said aloud and covered her mouth quickly. All of her panic had been replaced by shock. What she had just witnessed was more than a noble having a dalliance with a peasant - lord knew it happened enough to produce more than the country's share of bastards. This...this was a sin. She wondered what the King or the Duke might think of it? Slowly but surely, a smile spread along her face. She would not go down alone.

* * *

The Duke arrived at the castle just as the rain was letting up. He walked through the gates with his back straight and his head held high. Drink as he may at home, he would not let anything interfere with his duty and service to the crown. When the guard announced him to the King he dropped to his knees. It did not escape his notice that the King looked like he had gone days without proper sleep. The unrest and pressure must have been even heavier on him.

"Your Majesty." The Duke said, bowing his head. The King said nothing to him and as the Duke looked around, he noticed that everyone in the room watched him with intensity. He lifted his head. The atmosphere felt chilly and he did not know the reason. Surely things had not gotten that bad since he had last been there.

"Your Majesty...is there something wrong?" He asked as he rose to his feet. The King somberly got to his feet as well. He motioned for several guards to approach. One of them was not wearing the garments of the castle guard. He wore shabby clothes more befitting of a country guard.

"Your Grace..." He bowed low. His arm was cast in a sling and there was a cleaned cut right under his chin. There were faint bruises all along his face that could not be seen until he stepped into the light. He had been beaten quite badly. The Duke feared the worst. Had there already been a riot? His mind formulated a dozen plans to calm the citizens down. It depended on which part of the country it was. The south was relatively stable, with many well trained guards stationed there. However, if it was out west, they would have to relocate some of the southern guards and he did not know just how that would shift the dynamic.

"Your Grace..." His eyes focused again on the familiar green and blue jacket. He had seen it somewhere before. "I'm sorry..." The Duke's eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to remember. The man was trembling now, as if recalling something traumatic. "Your Grace...your wife...the Duchess..."

It hit him just as the words spilled from his mouth. This man was one of the guards stationed at his country estate. It was where his wife had been exiled.

"Your Grace...there was an uprising...your wife...she was killed."


	26. Part 3: A Brief Respite

Even in death her face was every bit as beautiful as ever, perhaps even more. There was a certain stillness in her expression. She seemed peaceful, as though she accepted her fate wholeheartedly. The Duke watched as his men wrapped the body in fine linens for the long ride home. She'd been wearing a simple dress, drab and cheaply made, as befitting a woman in exile. She looked as though she had simply been sleeping and had it not been for the dark red stain starting at her stomach and cutting upward to her chin, he would've attempted to shake her awake. As they pulled a white cloth over her face, he glimpsed a simple wooden locket around her neck. He knew it right away. It was impossible to forget the necklace that hung around her neck the night he killed her lover.

The Duke felt like screaming or throwing himself off of the nearest tower. But he looked around. It was as if everyone watched his every move, waiting to see if he would snap. The torches flared in the night and across the empty country where the servants tried to salvage what was left of the ruined land. He was acutely aware of the group of peasants off to the side of the charred country estate, their faces barely illuminated by the light they each hand in hand. His eyes focused on them. They could not have been more than two decades old, and their gaze might've been innocent. But the Duke could not help but wonder if they played a part in the destruction of his land, and the murder of his wife. His old temper flared, and he took a strong step in their direction, his hand resting on the newly tempered sword at his side.

"Your Grace." It was the voice of his land steward that called him back. He had not gotten very far, not far enough for anyone to understand his intent. He stopped as his toes touched the edge of the steps leading down towards the peasant group and he turned.

"Yes?" He asked as his wild eyes settled.

"Your Grace, it is too late for us to depart tonight, the horses need rest." When the Duke turned around, the peasant group was already on their way back to their home. He turned around and his hands fell uselessly to his side.

"What of the horses I have stabled here?" He asked, already guessing the answer.

"Gone, Your Grace. They were either taken or they fled during the fire." Duke Lopez nodded in agreement and the steward ordered the remaining servants to set up a temporary living space in what remained of the servant quarters at the edge of the yard.

"Would you like for us to start cleaning up the estate?" The steward asked. The Duke began to turn around and survey the damage but he stiffened up instead. He knew what he would see. The land still burned and smoked with destruction. It would take years to repair the damage done, and he wasn't sure if he would be alive to see the restoration of the area.

"Leave it." He replied. "Clean up and repair as much as you need to survive. I am greatly fatigued, and it is a long, day's journey home tomorrow." That was all he wanted to say but he could not help but add "When I return, we will discuss the next course of action." He followed the steward into the tiny bedroom reserved for him. The bed, though old and rumpled, was a welcome sight. As he settled in, a brief, mad thought entered his head. He closed his eyes and fell asleep still thinking of it.

_At least she not be far from me._

* * *

Santana was still asleep when Brittany awoke by her side the next morning. They had somehow fallen asleep together during the night, tired from running around in the rain. She must have been in the middle of undressing her Mistress when it happened as Santana's corset was half undone. Brittany groggily sat up and looked around. When she realized just how compromising their position was, she got out of bed quickly, though delicately to prevent Santana from waking. Her clothes were still damp from the previous day. Though the memory sent a pleasant shiver down her spine, she wondered just how reckless Santana had become. Brittany bit her lip. They were certain to be caught if Santana continued in this careless manner.

"Miss..." Brittany whispered. Santana did not stir from her slumber and Brittany took this moment to change into dry clothes. She stepped into her room quietly, though some servants in the hallway saw her leave Santana's room. She pretended that everything was normal but in her mind she imagined their curious looks to be more piercing, as though they guessed at what sort of unnatural relationship the two had.

"It isn't unnatural." Brittany whispered to herself firmly. She pulled her shirt over her head. The linen clung to her skin and left red cordry marks along her back. She tossed it carelessly aside and fetched her other fresh shirt. She slipped it on and breathed in a comfortable sigh of relief. Outside, the sun was bright and warm, in stark contrast to the storm they had yesterday. She opened the window and let the fresh air flood the small room. It was a beautiful day, perhaps her Mistress would like to take a walk around the estate or go into town. That would help take her mind off of her predicament. When she finished dressing, she left her room. She had barely touched the door when the door flew open and Santana nearly ran straight into her servant.

"Miss!" Brittany exclaimed in shock. Santana blinked once and flung her arms around Brittany. Brittany immediately looked around for any prying eyes before gently applying pressure against her Mistress's body, pushing her back into the room.

"Don't leave my side." Santana whispered. "I'd woken up...and I thought you had fled again." Brittany coaxed Santana down onto the bed. Once her mistress let her go, she grabbed a brush from the dresser and began combing Santana's messed up hair.

"I would not do such a thing again, Miss." Brittany promised. Santana looked down at her feet, feeling a little ashamed to put such pressure on her servant. She must sound pitiful every time she opened her mouth. Brittany carefully ran the brush through Santana's thick, ebony hair. She stroked the top of her head and placed a kiss right above her forehead. Santana tilted her head backward and looked up into Brittany's sparkling, trustworthy eyes. She helped her Mistress dress for the day. She wore practical clothing as she was not entertaining guests for the day.

"Let's go somewhere today, Miss." Brittany suggested.

"Where would we go?" Santana wondered but her eyes brightened at the idea of getting out of the confines of her room and house.

"Anywhere."

"I have lessons." Santana weakly objected, knowing full well that Brittany would tell her to ignore them for the day. The prospect of spending time away from her mess of a family and spending time with the person who made her most happy brought a flutter to her heartbeat.

"Miss, you can forget them for a day, no one would say anything."

"I bet my teacher would." Santana giggled, and it was as beautiful as Brittany remembered it. _"This,"_ she thought to herself _"is what I've most missed this past month."_ When Santana smiled at Brittany's loving gaze, the small room, so devoid of life a minute before, filled with sun and warmth. "Where shall we go?" She asked. Brittany thought for a moment. They could go into town and look around the shops, or they could take a long ride out to the river. Then it hit her where they should go and she gently took Santana's hand.

"Follow me." She said. Santana held onto Brittany's hand, and Brittany led her forward excitedly. It felt good to have someone know where she was going, Santana had certainly been lacking that as of late, what with her father in the state he was. She hated to admit it, but her mother, as controlling as she was, had been the one force responsible for keeping order around the estate, for always having a plan and for keeping everyone in check. Santana was never wandering aimless, either physically or mentally. But Brittany's steps were sure and firm and Santana gave herself into her whim.

* * *

Quinn paced. It was what she did when she alternated between two extreme emotions. She sat when she plotted, thinking of what she'd seen the day previous and she stood when she realized that her own fate was doomed. It would not be long before she started showing. Her face changed by the second. One minute she bit her lip and cried into her hands, lamenting her situation, the next her eyes narrowed as she calculated her rival's demise. Hysteria, the doctors would say, no doubt brought on by the extreme stress of her inability to be married off. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that in order to save herself, she would have to take the first man who offered to marry her. But perhaps if she could bring Santana down, she could work her way back into the King's good graces.

She glanced over at the door to Brittany's side room. How stupid she had been to let Brittany go. But how was she supposed to know how precious a prisoner she had in her clutches? She stood up, walked over to the small door, and opened it. She'd never gone in since Brittany left; she'd never had a reason to do so. The door was stuck, swollen with humidity against its already tight frame and Quinn had to yank hard before it opened. It did so with a sharp crack and with the door came cobwebs stuck to the inside of the wood. Dust flew at Quinn's face and she coughed when it hit the back of her throat, as if the room itself wanted to deter her from finding anything incriminating. But as soon as the air cleared, she stepped inside.

The hem of her dress dirtied immediately. A certain staleness hung around her in the small room and had it not been for the bugs hovering menacingly outside, Quinn would have liked to open the window. She looked around the tiny living space, not sure what she would find but feeling that she would find something. As she scanned he room, it was hard to miss the one object unbefitting such a shabby room. Dust hid the glimmer of red, but Quinn would have to be blind to miss the jeweled box resting on the bed, untouched and in the open after Santana discovered it all those months ago. Quinn walked over, not daring to sit down on the filthy bed, and opened it. It was a music box. Her lips curled in disgust. Had she paid Brittany so well that she could afford such frivolous junk? Had she known the meaning behind the music box, or had Brittany's affections been plainly displayed on the object, she may have thought differently. As it was, however, the music box served no purpose in her plot to expose her rival's immoral relationship. She dropped the cover of the music box unceremoniously and the gust of wind caused something in the corner between the bed and the wall to rustle. In any other situation, she would have dismissed it. But desperation makes a man chase ghosts, and in this case Quinn chased a sound. She delicately leaned over the bed and pressed her head against the wall for a better look. What she found was a crumpled, yellowed piece of parchment. She reached down and grasped the parchment with her fingers and brought it back up. She unfolded it slowly.

_My Dear Lady Santana,_

Quinn's smile grew with every line she read. This was the fatal piece she needed.

* * *

Santana and Brittany took two horses out for riding. They leisurely rode along the road. For such a beautiful day, there were hardly any other travellers. A few families were out, enjoying the fair weather but none of them really minded two plainly dressed women.

The many years had not decayed Brittany's memory of the road there. It had been so thoroughly etched in her mind that she would not forget it. At times, it was difficult to tell which road to take since time had changed the land. Buildings that existed in her memory failed to appear in the present time or where there was once empty land there now stood a new house. Often when the passage of time confused Brittany's recollection, they took the wrong road for a few minutes before wandering back and taking the right one.

Santana had not returned to the auction house since she returned with Brittany. She saw the old, stone building and did not recognize it at first. A thick layer of vines now covered the exterior, obscuring some of the windows and decor. It had been a long time since anyone had used the auction house. Santana stopped her horse just short of the weathered marble fountain that once spouted water from its cherub figurine. Brittany cast a long glance backward.

"I have always wanted to come back here with you." She said.

"Brittany, this was where your father sold you to the Count." Santana replied in horror.

"It was also where I met you." Brittany countered. The strength in her voice verified which action meant more to her. Santana thought it was rather nostalgic of Brittany to revisit the place where they first met but being at the auction hall brought back a time when problems were small, when her family was whole and there was no pressure to marry. Brittany's hand touched her arm and ran her fingers along her skin and Santana realized that as idyllic as that time was, there were benefits to growing old as well.

"I had hoped to go inside. Had I known..." Brittany stared at the overgrowth sadly. Santana tugged at Brittany's hand.

"Who says we cannot?" Santana asked mischeviously wagging her finger. Her spirits were high and her old playfulness returned. She let go of Brittany's hand and wandered over to the doors. They had long been shut and locked, and no matter how hard the young noblewoman pulled, they would not open. She let out a huff of frustration and looked around for another way in. To the left of the doors was a tall window, unreachable by normal means but the vines that overtook the area promised a way in. The glass had been broken, no doubt by passing youths with idle time and rocks in their hands. Santana inhaled and steeled herself. She gave an experimental tug on the long winding stems to teat their strength, then hoisted herself up. She pushed the remaining shards of broken glass away and pulled herself through the thin frame. She gently lowered herself onto the dusty stone floor.

"Brittany, it's alright." She called and her servant crawled through. Santana marveled at the sight. Far from being empty, the auction hall was filled with items to be sold. Luxurious couches, cabinets, rugs and decorative weapons lined the back of the hall. Santana noticed that many of the smaller wooden boxes and several cabinets were open and empty. Perhaps someone had made a pass through already and taken the smaller valuables.

"It is larger than I remember." Brittany whispered. She remembered how tightly packed the hall had been, how stifled the air, and as ever the overbearing prescence of the Count. Now that she was free and grown and the hall emptied of people, it was eerily beautiful. Light peeked in like ribbons through the gaps between the vines, sometimes hitting a piece of metal on the various pieces of furniture and reflecting in a number of colors elsewhere. Apart from the dust, the pieces were all in tact. There was almost enough to furnish an entire home.

"We could live here." Brittany thought aloud. Santana turned her head to regard her servant with a surprised look, as if Brittany had just said the most enlightening thing Santana had ever heard.

"Yes..." She echoed softly. "We could."

* * *

The Duke arrived home to a still house. The servants were out of sight, and even when he called for her, Santana did not show herself.

"She must have gone elsewhere." He reasoned. It was better that way. He had not the heart to break the news to her that her mother was dead, at least not at the present time. He felt tired, and wanted nothing more than to lie down for a bit but the minute his feet touched the interior of his home, a voice called out to him.

"Your Grace!" The Duke looked up just in time to see the King approaching him from inside his very home. Several stern looking guards flanked him.

"Your Majesty," The Duke fell to one knee respectfully. "When...when did you arrive?"

"I have been here quite a while, I did not know you had returned." King Finn replied. The Duke looked back at the manor. All the servants of his estate stood in the background, waiting on the King. So that was where they had gone, the Duke thought to himself. The King motioned for him to stand and so he did.

"To what do I owe this honor?" The Duke asked, signalling for the servants to deliver drinks and food. A few of them scurried off to do as he bid. He led the King into his study. His guards posted guard outside. The King studied the various books lining the shelves.

"You are well read, Duke." The King commended. The Duke felt the sting of loss when he mentioned the books.

"Hardly." He croaked before clearing his throat. "Those...many of them belonged to my wife. I was hardly a well read young man." Finn shyed away from the shelf, offering an apologetic and awkward smile to the widower.

"I'm sorry for your loss. Had I known that the unrest would reach so far...I would have stationed more guards by her side." Finn apologized. The Duke sat down and sighed.

"No, it was not something you could have stopped, not with the country as it is." Yet even as he spoke those words, the Duke's voice carried a certain flat tone betraying his true feelings. "Your Majesty, I've lost my wife just yesterday, I should like to retire early, if it is alright with you." The King cleared his throat and toyed uneasily with the many golden, jeweled rings on his hand.

"I meant to discuss this with you at the castle. But...since unfortunate events transpired before then, I was unable to do so. The affairs of this country are not any better. I need your assistance more and more. I'm not fit to rule, not without constant aid. Consider moving to the castle, please, for your country's sake. " Finn admitted.

"Your Majesty, I have put our country in peril because of my selfish wishes." Duke Lopez could not help but laugh at how pathetic he was. "No, I am not fit to advise anyone. Your Majesty, I beg of you to let this old man live out the rest of his days peacefully."

"Those days may soon be upon us if you do not help!" Finn shouted in a manner unbefitting of a king. Finn immediately straightened formally and turned around to hide his reddening face. "There is another matter I would like to discuss with you." The Duke rested his head back against the cushion of the chair, he was prepared to turn down the next request as well.

"I would like Santana's hand in marriage." The Duke sat up straight. His eyes cleared at the mere mention of his daughter and he bore holes into the back of Finn's head with his stare. Finn turned around and Duke Lopez noticed that his jaw was firm and his nervous fidgeting had stopped.

"My daughter?" The Duke clarified. Finn nodded.

"I know I said I would not ask such a thing until the mourning period for my father passed but..." He took a deep breath to slow himself. He had started to ramble. "She is intelligent, beautiful, and cunning. Santana is as fit to be Queen as I am unfit to be King."

"She is." Duke Lopez agreed. "She takes after her mother."

"My people deserve a Queen such as her. They might finally have a leader to follow." The Duke leaned forward onto his knees and covered his mouth. Finally, he let out a laugh more akin to a giddy giggle. He pondered the absurdity of it all. To lose his wife and gain a King for a son in a day, times were desperate indeed. Yet this announcement was the best he had heard in such a long time, and it was much needed.

_If you could have been here._ He thought, looking up at the ceiling. He stood up and informally clapped a hand on the King's shoulder. Finn thought about how strong his grip was. It reminded him of his own father before the illness took him.

"I will tell her this news." He said, breaking out into a genuine smile. Finn shook his head.

"I should like to ask her myself, Duke." Finn replied.

"I do not know when she will return." He said, looking out the window at the setting sun. "I should think that she will return before nightfall." Finn nodded as if the idea agreed with him.

"Then I will wait." Finn said. Their meeting concluded, they left the study and the Duke immediately headed to his bedroom to lie down. If anything, he needed to prepare himself for the eventful night to come.

* * *

Brittany played with the loose strands of Santana's hair while they reclined on a fainting couch. Santana had her head in Brittany's lap and Brittany listened to the ticking of a clock pushed up against the wall. The time was incorrect, but the ticking was steady.

"I remember when I was younger," Brittany began to break the silence.

"Hmm?" Santana's eyes were closed, but she let out a small sound to let her know she was listening.

"My mother used to tell me tell me stories about how I would meet a wonderful Lord who would fall in love with me and save me." Santana smiled and rolled onto her side, burying her face into Brittany's stomach.

"She was half right." Santana whispered. She liked hearing about the happier bits of Brittany's childhood. Brittany grinned and began running her finger along the outside of Santana's ear. Santana giggled. "That tickles." The room, once filled with soft, sparse sunlight began to darken and Brittany heaved a sigh.

"We should head back, Miss." Brittany said. Santana opened her eyes and sat up, rubbing them wearily. Their blissful day free from responsibility had finally come to an end. Santana wanted to stay there indefinitely, where they were free to be together without worry. She held her hand out and Brittany took it without another thought. They walked back over to the broken window and Brittany pushed a chair over so they could get back out. Insects, out in the cool evening night, swarmed around them when they stepped back outside. Their horses snorted and stamped their hooves impatiently, as if to tell the two girls that it was far too late for them to be away from home. Brittany helped Santana onto her chestnut mare and mounted her own white speckled steed and the two set off for home.

Even though they knew the way back, it still took just as long as it did to get there in the morning. They rode slowly, aware that every step took them closer to an uncertain future rife with harsh realities. They held hands whenever their horses wandered close enough to the other. Santana found strength in Brittany's slightly coarse grip. When the lights of the Lopez estate came into sight, they let go and rode separately and quietly all the way to the steps. Puck was there to receive them and took their horses away.

* * *

The Duke had just drifted off again, unable to fully fall asleep for a prolonged period of time. His dreams, when they festered in his mind, were filled with his dead wife, mocking him. He could almost hear her voice as she laughed at what he had become.

"_You tried to save me by exiling me_. _Yet my fate was still the same. Worse, you failed to save me and your country stands at the brink of collapse as a result of your actions_..."

"Where are you?" He violently jerked into an upright position from sleep and his voice broke with desperation. He was going mad, yet if he could hear her voice just once more, he would gladly relinquish his sanity. When he realized he was alone, he ran his fingers through his unkempt hair and prepared to lay down again. The door opened and his eyes widened. The Duchess's voice was still fresh in his mind, and he hoped against all odds that it was his wife. Instead, his steward entered.

"Your Grace." The steward bowed. "Lady Santana has returned." The Duke coughed to clear his throat and nodded.

"I understand. Tell her I will be down in just a moment." The steward bowed again and left the room. The Duke stood up and checked himself in the mirror, making sure that he looked presentable. He smoothed his hair down with his hand and straightened his shirt and jacket. Satisfied that he looked at the very least acceptable, he walked out of his room and down the stairs where Santana and Brittany stood in the entrance hall, waiting.

"You wished to see me?" Santana asked. As the Duke opened his mouth to speak, Finn came rushing into the hall. All four of them froze, and Santana looked back at her father with a confused expression. The Duke cleared his throat.

"His Majesty came to discuss important matters with me, among other things." It did not escape his attention that his daughter was blissfully unaware of her mother's death. But that was not the topic at hand. He looked over to Brittany.

"Brittany, you may retire for the night." He said in a manner that was more a command than a statement. Brittany glanced at Santana quickly before she nodded.

"Thank you, Your Grace." She said. She took her time leaving and paused at the top of the staircase to observe the somber gathering. When the room had cleared, Duke Lopez motioned for them to enter the study. They were silent when they filed into the small room and Santana could not help but think that the next few hours would be the longest hours in her life.


	27. Part 3: A Walk in the Garden

Finn paced around the study and bit his fingernails. He looked over the books, trying to take his mind off of the daunting task ahead of him. But the words blurred together and he had to sit down. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Think of something happier." He said to himself. However, his thoughts only went to his father and how early he died. He shook his head. _No, no I must move on._ He tried to dig up another memory, something more recent. And music floated into his head. A song floated from soft, supple lips and into his mind. _Rachel..._

The door opened and Finn jumped to his feet, knocking the chair over. He placed his hands in front, neatly folded together formally. The Duke entered cautiously, peering into the room to make sure that the King was ready. When Finn nodded, he opened the door the entire way and stepped inside. Santana followed, her eyes trained to the floor. When she looked up, her eyes shot open in surprise.

"Your Majesty!" She immediately bowed her head and bent her knees to show respect. Her mind raced with every possible scenario that could bring the King here. Was he here to visit her father?

"I, um, I'm so sorry that..." Finn looked up at the Duke who immediately shook his head, as if sensing what he was about to open up with. _Who opens up a proposal talking about death?_ Finn demanded, mentally hitting himself. The room was getting a little too hot for his liking and he coughed.

"I am sorry I came here unannounced. And I understand it is late, I hope I am not keeping you up." Santana shook her head and looked up at her father with a quizzical expression.

"Not at all, Your Majesty." She said. Her father's face was stoic and unreadable. She turned back to the King, who fidgeted even more than usual.

"Excuse me, Duke. Will you leave us a moment?" The Duke bowed without saying anything and left the room. Santana felt a cold sweat wash over her. So he was not here to talk to her father. To ask to be alone with a young lady really only meant one thing. Her panicked gaze fell upon his dark garments. _"But he is still in mourning." _She tried to reason.

"How have you been?" He asked, wringing his hands.

"Fine, thank you." Santana replied curtly. "And you, Your Majesty?"

"Busy. There is much going on with the kingdom. I've found myself relying on your father's help more than I should. He is a brilliant man, probably more suited for this work than I."

"I am sure Your Majesty will prove to be a quick study." Santana said. Finn tugged at his collar. The room was growing unbearably hot and he longed to be outside.

"Would you like to take a walk with me through the gardens?" He asked. "It has been a long time since I've seen them." Santana nodded and the two of them left the study. The guards posted right outside of the door made a move to follow them, but he shook his head and they stayed where they were. Santana led him through the hallway, through several rooms and finally outside onto the stone pathway. The night had just settled into its sounds and smells. Crickets sang and a breeze cooled the King's sweaty brow. It was relaxing to be outside rather than cooped up in a room. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Santana..." He began. "Your father has been invaluable to me. I do not know if you have heard how terrible the unrest has gotten amongst the common folk. It is not a woman's place for politics. But you have your father's wits." He stopped walking as they neared the fountain that marked the midway point between the stream and the Lopez manor. Santana felt a shiver of dread run down her back. She backed away.

"Your Majesty, please excuse me, but I have had a tiring day and I wish to reti-" Finn cut her off by grabbing her arm and pulling her close. His grip was strong and sure, and for a moment it looked as though he might kiss her. Instead he stared into her eyes with a mixture of determination and regret.

"I have already asked your father but I ask you. More than ever I need a queen who is cunning when I am not, strong when I appear weak, and decisive when I bend. I need you, Lady Santana. I need you to be my queen."

"Your Majesty you are still in mourning..."

"I cannot wait any longer. My father would understand." He suddenly deflated and let her go. The determination flickered and vanished from his eyes. He coughed and turned away sharply. "I understand this must be a heavy burden to place on you now." His expression resembled that of a cornered dog and Santana felt similarly. _How am I supposed to respond? How does anyone respond?_ She had always known that she would marry someone she did not love, that was just the nature of her position. But she had tasted what real love was and wanted to hold onto it a little longer before she had to fulfill her duties as the daughter of a Duke.

"How does one refuse a king?" She wondered aloud. It was a very real question and her eyes brimmed with tears. But Finn saw it differently. He mistook those tears for joy and pleasant disbelief.

"You cannot understand what this means to me, My Lady." He took her small hands in his oversized palms and held them for a second. For Finn, it seemed like something was finally going his way. The country would have the queen they deserved.

"You must be very tired." He could not contain his smile. _Idiot._ Santana thought, turning to brush her tears away. "I'll walk you back. I..." He kissed her knuckles. "I am grateful."

Brittany was not the only servant watching the exchange from the open windows. The entire estate hovered by the tiny glass panes in the dining room, trying to catch a glimpse of the king.

"What do you suppose they're discussing?" A young girl asked, hopping up and down, blocking the view. Noel shushed her.

"What do you think, you idiot?" She snapped. "He is proposing!" The word itself sent immediate murmurs rippling through the group. Upstairs, far from the gossip, Brittany stood at a window in the hallway. The moon shone blue through the glass and she looked down at her shadow when Finn kissed Santana's hand. This was how it should be, she thought. This is right. Soft footsteps approached her and she wiped away the tears she promised herself were not there. The strong, broad shoulders of the Duke appeared beside her just as she stopped crying.

"Her mother would have been proud." He said. It was the first time in a long time that she had heard the Duke speak so gently to her. She marvelled at how weary he sounded. "I am proud." Brittany focused on breathing. She tried to keep her voice steady.

"We are all happy for the Lady Santana." She said softly. They watched the two make their way from the garden.

"Her mother is dead." His voice was so low that Brittany did not believe he spoke at all. When she understood, her eyes flew sharply to his face. He met her gaze and held it. She expected there to be animosity, after all, he had not spoken to her because of the incidents involving her family. Instead what she saw there was an expression she had seen in her mother's eyes the day her father died. _He feels pain no differently than I._ And then the consequences of his words set in. _Santana..._She stared at him with the question burning in her eyes. As if he could read her thoughts, he shook his head. "I've not the courage to tell her..." His voice locked up and he resumed watching his daughter with a hard silence. Brittany opened her mouth to say some sort of comforting phrase to ease his pain but she could think of nothing. His jaw had already set and a lost, aloof look glazed across his eyes and she realized her words would not reach him. Nor would it matter, she remembered her place and quickly, quietly disappeared into her room as a good servant should.

She rested on the bed upright and attentive. Her ears picked up the faintest of sounds, from the sound of mice climbing through the cracks in the walls to the soft footsteps of the Duke retreating into his room, followed by the peal of glass and drink coming together.

But the sound she waited for seemed to take forever to sound. Eventually she heard a completely different set of footsteps approach the room right next to her. She stood up, then sat back down and stood up again. She listened for the familiar ring of a bell but it never sounded. Seconds crawled by and she wondered if she had just imagined those footsteps. She finally opened the door and walked out into the empty hallway. It was silent, which made it easy for her to listen against Santana's door. Just as she was about to press her ear against the frame, the door opened. Santana jumped when she saw Brittany and Brittany stood up straight.

"Miss! I'm so sorry, I..." Santana threw her arms around Brittany. Wordlessly, they went into Santana's room Brittany guided her to the bed and sat her down.

"He asked me to marry him." Santana said, giving voice to Brittany's fears. Brittany felt her blood chill as cold as the night air. Brittany clung to Santana as tightly as she could. Santana's nails dug into her skin as she fought back tears.

"I couldn't say no." She said. The thought horrified her - that she was to be married and no one could do a thing to stop it.

"I know." Brittany replied sympathetically.

"But I could have." Santana said, running circles in her mind. "I could have said 'no'. But my father would have thrown me out, I'm sure of it. And he is the King!"

"I understand, Miss." Brittany said. Her throat closed momentarily and she coughed to clear it. Santana buried her face into Brittany's clothes, dirtied from the day's adventure. Brittany kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair.

"I wish we could stay young forever." Santana whispered. Brittany couldn't be anything but supportive. Who was she to say anything about affairs far above her class? And yet just thinking of Santana with anyone but her hurt more than she could put into words. So instead, she held Santana and did her best to hide her despair. She grasped both of her hands and brought them to her lips.

"Miss, whether you marry a King or a lowly Earl matters not to me. Know that I swore myself to you completely. Only death will change that and it would take a hundred hands to pry me from your side." She said in a hushed voice that verged on cracking. Santana sucked in breath and looked into Brittany's wet wide eyes. She leaned in slowly and Brittany met her halfway. Her hand found its way to the place where her back muscles curved into her spine. Brittany pulled her into a gentle embrace. When they parted, Brittany surveyed her face lovingly. She ran the back of her knuckles along Santana's cheek and Santana closed her eyes and leaned into the touch. _She still has no idea about her mother._ Brittany realized and she pulled away. Santana's hand pulled hers back against her face; she savored the touch. And while the knowledge of the Duchess's death burned inside Brittany's chest, it was not her place to reveal it.

"We could run away." She said hopefully though both of them knew it was not an option. Still, Brittany smiled.

"We could, Miss."

Morning came too quickly. Santana awoke, only to want to slip back into the safety of sleep. The first thing to greet her was the memory of last night. It had been such a blissful day - to have it ruined by a proposal was unexpected and unwelcome. Yet as much as she wanted time to freeze, it went on as usual. Brittany came in when Santana rang for her. She dressed simply. When Brittany's hands lingered on her shoulder as it usually did, she noticed it more clearly. _So little time..._she thought. Outside she heard voices - Finn's and her father's - downstairs. Santana tensed when she heard the King's voice. The last thing she wanted was further interaction with him. She and Brittany said nothing for fear of being noticed. Eventually, her father spoke words of farewell but she relaxed only when she heard the sound of horses and carriages disappearing into the distance.

Brittany was just about to place a kiss on her lips when someone knocked unexpectedly and they both jumped apart. Santana stood up and cleared her throat.

"Come in." She said as Brittany busied herself with folding Santana's night gown. Her father walked in quietly and simply stared at his daughter. His eyes watered when he saw her. How she had grown. She seemed taller and looked more beautiful. How had he let it escape him these past months?

"Has His Majesty spoken with you?" Santana asked. The Duke walked over to her and embraced her. His arms were weaker than Santana remembered but it had been a long time since he held her.

"Come with me. There is something I need to show you." His voice was weak and somber, something Santana did not expect if Finn had told him of their engagement. She cast a worried glance back at Brittany before following her father out the door. They walked side by side down the stairs and through the manor to an area Santana rarely visited. It was in the northeast corner, where her mother usually spent her time and everything there, from the rugs to the paintings, reminded her of the days when her mother would drag her for lessons.

"Why are we here?" She asked, staring up at the broad shoulders of her father. The Duke stopped by her mother's main study.

"I am sorry for not telling you sooner, Santana." He said simply before opening the door.

A pleasant but overwhelming fragrance burst through the open door and Santana took a step back when it assailed her senses. She tentatively took a step into the room. It was as her mother left it, but a large wooden box now sat in the middle of the room. It was sealed on all sides and Santana took a few more steps toward it. She did not recognize it at first, a part of her denied the truth of its existence, but as she drew closer, its shape became familiar. Her feet was flush against the wood when she fully realized what it was and the consequences of its presence.

A numbness washed over Santana as she stared down at the closed coffin, knowing full well who was inside yet not daring to confirm it. Her father took his place beside her and at once he started shaking. Santana looked over and knew it was harder for him than it was for her.

"I'm sorry, Santana, I could not protect your..." His voice cut out and Santana wondered if he could not finish the sentence because he believed her more his wife than Santana's mother. She brushed the edge of the coffin with her fingertips. _Do not forget what she's done..._a voice in her warned but sorrow sank into her body and weighed it down. As cruel and unfair as the Duchess had been, she had still been her mother. Somehow, Santana did not not want to believe that the Duchess lay in this thin wooden container. Her mother had been strong and relentless.

"How..." Santana began but she choked on her own words. Rumors of the revolts had not escaped her ears and she could only guess what had happened. The Duke's eyes hardened at the thought. His fists clenched and he inhaled deeply, his sense filling with the floral perfume that masked the scent of death.

"I will find the men responsible for this and believe me when I say that they will regret every minute of their worthless lives." He said softly. For a moment, Santana heard her mother in his voice in the way that she was cold and unforgiving. A chill settled on her shoulders and she shuddered when she looked up at the once warm and loving face of her father. The moment passed and his expression softened, then sagged. He looked upon his daughter with sadness and drew her into another embrace.

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner." He said again. "But...last night was meant to be a happy occasion. Your mother would've been happy." His hug felt cheap, a poor apology for keeping her mother's death from her for who knew how long. "Marrying a king..." Her heart sunk when she heard the hope in her father's voice. He held her at shoulder length.

"I hope that you are happy." He said. Santana could have told him the truth; that she did not want to marry the king. Perhaps that would've changed everything. But she did what every good daughter would; she smiled and nodded without so much as a hint of an objection.

She stumbled back to her room where Brittany was just pulling back the curtains to let in the light. When she closed the door with a soft click, Brittany turned with a smile on her face to greet her Mistress. But when she saw Santana's gaze trained on the floor, she immediately knew something was wrong.

"Miss?" Santana lifted her head and turned her lips thinly upward.

"You'll have to pick out new clothes for me." She said. Brittany dropped the curtain she held in her hands. "My mother is dead, it's only fitting I go into mourning...and right after the King proposed..." She sat down suddenly and Brittany was by her side in an instant. "What have I done to deserve this?" She said as the weight of all the events hit her at once. Brittany gathered her Mistress in her arms and it was an embrace she welcomed, an embrace that gave her hope that God had not completely turned His back against her. Yet it was hard to take comfort in it when her life had so quickly changed for the worst in a day. She had always believed life would be better without her mother.

"She is still my mother." She cried. "I lost my mother..." Brittany kissed the top of her head.

"It will be alright." She promised. "I'm here." Santana wiped her eyes on Brittany's shoulder.

"Can you...can you just hold me?" She asked. Brittany looked from her to the door and stood up to lock it but Santana pulled her down and whispered against her lips. "I don't care anymore. I don't care if anyone sees." Brittany opened her mouth to protest but Santana was already dragging her onto the bed and Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's waist. In moments, fatigue overtook Santana and she slipped into sleep while tears stained her pillowcase.

* * *

Quinn was just settling down to a late lunch when her mother stormed into her room and threw a letter down onto the table, almost landing in Quinn's soup.

"Some good news before you eat." Her mother snapped. Quinn stared at her mother with a mixture of curiosity and anger as she unfolded the letter.

"'My dear Marchioness Fabray, I doubt you have heard the news at it has hardly left the estate, but two days ago, late into the evening His Majesty was seen strolling with the Lady Santana Lopez...'" Quinn looked up at the Marchioness. "Mother what is this? Who wrote this to you? Do you have contacts in the Lopez residence?"

"Don't be stupid, Quinn, of course I do. As do they here no doubt." Her mother hissed. "But you haven't gotten to the best part. Please, my dear, continue. Out loud." Quinn glared at her and kept reading.

"'It is no coincidence that His Majesty did so. Earlier, through the thin walls that separate us from the nobles, I overheard him ask the Duke Lopez..." Her eyes bulged when she read the next few words. "...for Lady Santana's hand in marriage..." Her arms fell onto the table. A fresh wave of nausea rose in her throat and it was not caused by the secret she dared not mention.

"While you were busy wasting your time, Santana has done everything right. Look at where she is now. Look at what you lost." Her mother spat. Quinn wanted to snap back but she found herself at a loss for words. How could it have happened so quickly? The King should have still been mourning the loss of his father. But she still had _the_ letter.

"Do not worry, mother." Quinn snapped.

"Worry? Tell me I should not worry when even an Earl will not have you." Quinn bristled with the insult. Had she been less civilized, she might've thought to strike her mother but she sat in her seat with her head held high and her back perfectly upright. Insults, she reasoned, were only words. She would show her mother what she could do with actions. The Marchioness sat down and took her hand.

"Listen, Quinn, you've led a difficult life recently and certainly it was not entirely your fault. Perhaps we should consider sending you away for a little while until things here have calmed."

"You mean to another country." Quinn responded coldly. Her eyes narrowed and she pulled her hand out of her mother's grasp.

"Darling it would not be long, just until the royal wedding is over and everyone will be too busy talking about that rather than your unfortunate incident with Duke Harrington." Quinn slammed her napkin on the table and stood up abruptly. She wanted to tell her mother the truth, that Duke Harrington had meant to take her as his lover with no promise of marriage, that he meant to force himself onto her and ruin her for any future husband. But she bit her tongue as a terrible feeling sunk in that maybe her mother would've reprimanded her for not giving herself to the Duke. Some small, cynical part of her wondered if her mother would've liked for it to happen, to force the Duke into a marriage because he had planted his seed in her belly. It would not be the first time it had happened within their circle. She stormed out of the room, a dozen angry responses floating in her head but her throat was too locked up to voice any of them. She slammed the door to her room and fished the dusty letter from her dresser.

"I will not be sent to another country with my tail between my legs and I will not lose so easily to Santana." But even as she said it aloud, she placed her hand on her belly and her eyes softened with worry and fear. She had to act quickly.

* * *

Santana lay in her room wondering if Finn had forgotten about the proposal. She hoped he did. Maybe he hadn't been thinking clearly, she certainly hadn't heard anything from him since and the other noble families had been unnaturally quiet if they had heard anything. Perhaps he realized he had made a mistake. Now that she was but mere days into the mourning process, surely he had no ideas of marrying her anytime soon. She rolled over and looked out the window. The stable boys were running around laughing and playing instead of working. Her father had become so lax. She watched them toss a ball around, from one anonymous boy to another until a familiar, tall, short haired young man intercepted it in midair.

She never forgot their moonlit encounter by the stream. He had proven more thoughtful and melancholy than she initially believed of the brash, impulsive boy. She wondered if he still loved Quinn, or if that love had been quelled by time and status. His smile and playfulness betrayed no sense of loss but Santana found herself wondering nonetheless.

* * *

Puck ran as fast as his legs could take him with two young boys hot on his heels screaming for him to give the ball back. If they caught him, they'd probably sit on his chest until he couldn't breathe or worse. He threw the ball backwards with a laugh and the two of them scattered. He rushed into the barn and ran up into the loft where he hid with bated breath to see if they followed. When the coast was clear, he jumped down and started to make his way out again.

"I told you not to tease those boys." A low voice reprimanded. Puck instinctively ducked but a hand found the back of his head anyway. He jumped away with a pained yelp and crouched down. The stable master frowned at him and stood with his arms crossed.

"It was just a bit of fun!" He snapped. The stable master shook his head but a smile escaped his pursed lips. A chuckle made both their heads turn and they saw the carriage driver make his way in.

"You're a driver now, Puck." The old man said. "Don't be playing around with the stable boys. Puck folded his arms in front of his chest.

"I'm not yet." He insisted, feeling more at home laying in the barn and tending to the horses than being dressed up in a fancy suit and holding the reins. The carriage driver shook his head and took a seat on a nearby stool.

"Got some news about your lady." He said, holding up an open letter. Puck gave him a confused look.

"My lady? As I recall many of the ladies here are, or have been mine." He grinned mischievously, almost earning another smack on the head. The carriage driver chuckled and shook his head.

"I mean the one of noble birth. The Lady Fabray." Upon hearing her name, Puck froze and turned bright red.

"Ho-how did..." He stammered but he could not finish the sentence. This time it was the stable master's turn to guffaw.

"Half the estate knows." The carriage driver laughed. "Every time we drive by the Fabray estate you crane your neck to catch a glimpse of her and if you even happen to see the hem of her skirt you nearly run the carriage into the river." He waved the letter again. "It seems she's in poor health." Puck could not help but let out an overly concerned,

"She is?" The driver nodded.

"My friend over at the Fabray estate wrote to me, mostly telling me about her life." The stable master let out a snicker, leading Puck to believe that this was no mere "friend." But the affairs of the carriage driver was not what interested him. "She spoke of cooking, cleaning and said that the Lady Fabray had been sick to her stomach as of late. All the hand maids joke that she's with child in the state she's in. With child, could you imagine the scandal that would result..." Puck heard no more. It felt like a horse had kicked him in him in the stomach and he had to lean against one of the barn support beams to keep himself upright. Quinn was sick and had been for a while? The thought made him want to steal a horse from the barn and rush over there to make sure she was alright.

_With child...?_ Suddenly _he_ felt nauseous. Tear stained cheeks, bloody, full lips and a whisper of "_Please love me_" surfaced once again. It had been just one night. There was no way anything could have come from that.

_With child..._

But what if it did?


	28. Part 3: Allies

Puck could feel the blood trickling down his leg. _I was too hasty_, he thought as he glanced back at the fallen tree he tried to clear. But haste was of utmost importance to him as he made his way half running half hobbling to the Fabray estate. A little cut would hardly deter him from information that could change his life. It had been months since he saw her last, months long enough that he believed her gone from his life forever. But if that rumor was true, if it was even possible that Quinn carried his child...

He cared not for the consequences that may befall him from just visiting her like this. Instead, he marched long into the night until a tall, green, sloped roof appeared just above the tree tops. It was quiet at the estate, as everyone had long turned in for the night save the few guards posted at the door. He sneaked around the back, taking care to hide in the long shadows and nooks until he was right under the window to Brittany's old room. This time, he was visiting a different blonde maiden.

His climb up was more laborious than he remembered and he wondered if too many stolen pastries had something to do with it. This time, Brittany was not there to help him in. He forced open the window with one hand, his other precariously clutching to unstable vines. With what little energy he had from adrenaline and the knowledge that should he fall, he would meet and unfortunate end, he fell through the open window with a thud. He paused, listening for movement in the other room before getting up.

The small door creaked open and Puck peered through the darkness. Behind thin white veils, he could make out a still figure lying in the bed. He felt strange to be standing there, dirty, bloody and unfit to be seen. Her figure was as lithe as he remembered, with no sign of pregnancy. _Of course not, _he thought to himself as he took his first step forward. He watched her sleep fitfully. She tossed and turned and her face was scrunched up and troubled. He placed a hand over her mouth to still the scream of surprise and shook her shoulder gently. Her eyes flew open and she let out a muffled cry.

"Shh, Shh, My Lady it is only me." He whispered. Quinn threw herself to the opposite side of the bed.

"Puck! What are you...how did you get in? No, just get out!" She yelled, half believing his appearance to be a dream. He sat down on the bed and put his hands up to show her that he meant no harm.

"Is it true?" He whispered.

"I don't understand what you are saying, is what true?" She demanded, pulling the covers up near her neck, as if the thick blanket could protect her from him if he were to try anything. In response to her question, he glanced down to where her stomach was. She followed his line of vision and paled when she realized what he was hinting at.

"You know?" Her voice was light, defeated and she barely extended a breath to speak. Her eyes watered when Puck looked away in what could only be shame. And then, in a higher, more panicked voice, "Who else knows?"

"No one." Puck immediately clarified. "I had heard you were ill and..." He almost told her that rumors had been floating around, but he quickly realized it would only incite worry. "I had a feeling..."

"I wonder how many others 'had a feeling.'" Quinn turned her back to him and let her legs dangle from the side of the bed. She looked down at her bare feet and wondered how many months it would be before her stomach would swell to the point where she could no longer see them. She wondered how many weeks before she could no longer fit into any of her dresses, or when her mother would comment that she had gained weight. When would it all crumble under her feet?

"Please leave. I never want to see you again." Quinn whispered. Puck remained still despite her wishes and she did not press it any further. She did not resist when he slid across the bed and wrapped his strong, dark arms around her shoulders and held her tightly.

"Did you love me?" She asked.

"Yes." He replied. "Now more than ever before."

Puck left before the sky began to brighten. The two of them slipped in and out of sleep and the third time Puck stirred, he did not fall back asleep. He sat up and gazed sadly at Quinn. The Marquess's daughter was also awake, having been disturbed by Puck's movement. But she lay there quietly and pretended to be asleep. She felt him shift again and his lips were against her cheek, soft and scratchy. The bed creaked with his departure and she listened in the dark for the sound of the window opening. She stayed still and listened to the scuffles, the footsteps and the sound of brush rustling until all was quiet again and the sense of loneliness pervaded the room once more. Her eyes flitted over to her dresser where a crumpled piece of paper lay so out of place among the neatly placed, perfectly smooth belongings. Puck could not save her, only she could save herself.

* * *

_And how are you faring?_ The Duke lifted his head from his desk. His wine-blurred vision made out the vague outline of a dark skinned woman in white. He pushed himself away from his desk hastily.

"My love..." He slurred.

_You were never mine._ She sneered. _Pathetic._

"Our daughter is marrying the King!" He exclaimed. "We've done the best we can. We've succeeded."

_Have we? _The voice was hollow and reverberated with bitter laughter. _Oh you poor, blind, old fool. You cannot see what is plainly in front of you. You cannot see the sin that fills the estate..._

"What are you talking about?" He shouted, getting up and immediately falling back down. "What..."

"Your Grace, with whom are you speaking?" The door opened and The Duke's valet peered in, summoned by the Duke's seemingly nonsensical rambling. The Duke turned to face him.

"Nothing." He said, looking back at the empty space where he had imagined his wife. _Open your eyes you know it to be true..._a voice echoed in his head. "You may go." His valet bowed and left the room. The Duke sat on the floor a while, mulling over the words his "wife" left him. Every rational part of him screamed that not all was well and that he was troubled in ways he could not fix. Yet had the voice come from inside him, there must have been doubts about Santana's marriage. He stood up and left the room. Immediately his ears picked up the soft sound of laughter. The voice belonged to Santana. He had not heard her laugh like that in his life and did not expect to hear it, not during the mourning period. He steeled himself and set his jaw, slowly advancing on the door down the hall where the noise originated. He paused for a second a few feet from the door just in time for his valet to spot him.

"Duke, there is a message from His Majesty." The giggling stopped. The Duke wanted to stay silent but it his valet stared at him strangely when he did not reply.

"Leave it on my desk. I will attend to it later." He said before advancing on the door again. The hallway filled with silence and he disturbed it by gently rapping his knuckles against the frame.

"Come in." Santana said stoically. The Duke opened the door slowly, not sure what scene would unfold before him. He peered in cautiously.

"Is there something I can help you with, father?" Santana asked innocently from her bed. She lay reclined against the wall, book in hand. Off to the side, Brittany stood suspiciously busy with the drapes that appeared already organized. The Duke found himself at a loss for words. It was so ordinary, but what did he expect to find?

"I...I thought I heard..." But he could not describe what it was that he heard, what made him come into this room and stare at a seemingly normal picture in front of him. "It is nothing. The Marquess and his family send their condolences. Quinn in particular wanted to extend her deepest apologies for our loss." _Quinn..._Santana blinked in surprise. She had not realized how long it had been since she had heard her name or seen her.

"How does Quinn fare?" Santana asked. The question jumped out of her mouth before she could close it.

"Not well." The Duke responded. "You used to be friends. Have you two fought?" He shook his head. "Whatever has occurred is none of my business. I'm sorry for interrupting." He stepped out of the room and closed the door. He lingered for a moment, he knew not why and barely breathed. He heard Brittany's footsteps, heavy and undignified approach the door. He coughed uncomfortably and retreated down the hall.

They had held their breath the moment the door closed and did not exhale until they heard the pattering of feet down the long steps. Santana was the first to speak.

"That was...unsettling." She said after some deliberation. Her heart, which had taken residence in her throat when the door opened and Brittany's blouse was still unbuttoned, finally settled where it belonged.

"Do you think he suspects something?" Brittany asked, her shaking hands fumbling with her shirt.

"God, I sincerely hope not." Santana sighed. "Besides, even if he did, he would deny it to his last breath." She absently reached for Brittany's hand, her mind still processing what had occurred but her body hungry for what he had interrupted. Brittany acquiesced to the tug but did not pick up where they left.

"If he finds out..." She said with a worried whisper. "Miss, I'm frightened for you."

"He will not." Santana said placing a kiss on her servant's trembling lips. "I promise." But they had been spooked enough to let go of each other after the kiss and Santana wondered to herself if she could keep that promise.

* * *

The King stared at the faded parchment with no more understanding than he had an hour ago. Marked in red were areas of conflict, where residents had taken up arms against officials. There were more red marks than the week previous and to the left were numbers - deaths of men important to keeping the order. He let out a frustrated and enraged sigh, slamming his hand on the table.

"Is everything right, Your Majesty?" A voice from the doorway startled him and he whirled around. Paranoia thought it may be an assassin, come to end his useless life. When he saw it was merely an attendant, his shoulders slumped and he sat back in his chair.

"Every day more of my men die." He sighed. "Every day this country threatens to dissolve in civil war." He ran a cold hand through his thick chestnut hair. "I apologize, this is not how a King should behave, even in his own chambers."

"Sir, I am no one to judge." His attendant replied respectfully.

"Is there something you need of me?" Finn asked. His attendant cleared his throat.

"A Miss Rachel Berry has come to offer congratulations on your engagement." Finn sat up straight when he heard Rachel's name. His face flushed and he struggled with a simple "thank you." His feet worked with the briskness his mind envied. When he entered the throne room, his mind had only begun to process that she was here because he was to be married to someone else.

She dressed simply and Finn found himself wondering how she could look so beautiful even though her garments were unflattering. In truth she could've passed for a commoner, had it not been for the thin gold chain hanging around her neck. She stood at the right wall, admiring a painting of his father when he coughed and she jumped.

"Your Majesty!" The basket nearly fell from her arms when she stooped low in a deep curtsy. Her dress pooled around her

"Please, get up." He urged. "I am not so used to familiar faces acting so formally." He moved to kiss her hand or perhaps embrace her but she held the basket in front, unintentionally blocking any physical contact he sought.

"Eggs and fresh cheese from one of our farms" she said. "It was the best we could offer." He took the basket from her hands and set it down.

"Your presence is more than I could ask for." He said forwardly. She colored, not quite sure how to respond to such advances from a King. A moment of silence passed between them before Finn remembered why he had wanted to see her.

"I, uh, have always wanted to thank you for that night." She tilted her head curiously. "The night my father..."

"Ah!" She caught on and nodded furiously. "Yes, it was my pleasure. You just seemed so troubled at the time."

"I was." Finn replied. "I still am."

"Would you like me to sing for you again?" She beamed. "My instructor, Mr. William Schuester, insists that I have the best voice in the country. I think he may be exaggerating but..."

"I would like that." He said. "Are you to stay the night? It must have been quite a journey." She shook her head.

"I couldn't. My father..." But she faltered instantly when she saw the intense look in the King's eyes. She had never been looked upon by any man in the way Finn now stared at her. His eyes were full of longing and promise. She glanced at the basket, an offering in response to his engagement. _He is engaged_, she reminded herself over and over in the second that it took for Finn to close the gap and seize her hands.

"I would like you to stay." He said. This time, she did not refuse.

* * *

Brittany marvelled at how beautiful her Mistress was even in simple clothes. In her white, plain dress she looked like an angel. She looked so serene in her chair, flipping through a worn book. Brittany leaned over and planted a sweet, simple kiss on Santana's cheek. Santana glanced up at her.

"Is something the matter?" She asked.

"No, miss." Brittany said, returning to sewing one of her ripped dresses, a casualty of their last adventure outside. "I sometimes wonder why God has gifted me with your kindness and love." Santana set down her book.

"We found each other. That is what's important." Brittany smiled and reached out with one hand. Santana squeezed it gently before settling back with her book. If it could be like this, Santana thought, just the two of them, together in peace then there would truly be nothing better in the world.

Brittany was a few stitches from finishing when the door opened and the Duke's valet entered. The two of them started in surprise, glad that they were not in a compromising position.

"Miss Santana, Miss Quinn Fabray is here to see you." Santana shot Brittany a concerned look and Brittany set down her sewing things. They shared an unspoken understanding that it would be best if Brittany retired to her room. Santana collected herself, wondering what Quinn was doing there. They had not been in contact for so long. It troubled her that Quinn would show up out of the blue. She took her time walking down the hall and down the steps. She racked her brain thinking about what Quinn wanted.

Quinn stared at one of the vases in the entrance way, wondering about its origin and cost. It was the only way she could ignore the nausea in her throat, something she had gradually learned how to handle. When she saw movement on the balcony above, she reached instinctively to hide the letter behind her back and put on her best smile.

"To what do I owe this visit?" Santana asked as she cautiously approached the Marquess's daughter. Quinn bowed her head slightly, hiding her nervousness.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" She asked. "So much has happened. I came to congratulate you on your engagement to the King. Might I be the first say that we all knew it would be you." Her politeness worried Santana and she did not go near Quinn for fear that the girl may snap and attack her. "Might we speak somewhere private? I've much to discuss with you and I'm sure you've things to say." Santana felt a chill run up her spine. It was a trap and she knew it. She opened her mouth to tell Quinn that she was busy and to come back another day when the Duke appeared from his room.

"Ah, Quinn" he said. Quinn respectfully bowed in front of him. "How are you? How is your father?" Quinn had never seen the Duke look so unkempt. His hair was a mess and his eyes were bloodshot.

"I am well, Your Grace." Quinn replied. The Duke looked around, searching for something. When he could not find it, he turned to Santana.

"Where is Brittany? Have her fetch some tea for you two" he said. Santana watched with horror as Quinn's eyes brightened when she heard Brittany's name. An unrestrained smile crept up her face and her whole body stiffened with malicious excitement. Quinn had been waiting for the opportune moment to bring up the servant, after all, she was not supposed to know that Brittany had returned. She was not supposed to have witnessed the scene in the forest but that was precisely what brought her here.

"Brittany?" She faked surprise. "Is she here? That is perfect, my business relates to her." The Duke eyed her curiously.

"Brittany? Whatever for?" He asked.

"She served me for a time at my estate. I found this letter...and I mean to return it to her." Quinn's hazel eyes shot towards Santana and she brought out the letter from behind her back. "It seems a very _personal_ thing." Santana's body lurched forward when she saw the piece of parchment. She did not know what it contained, or what it wrote, but it was the reason for Quinn's sudden appearance and therefore it was dangerous.

"Let's discuss this in the upstairs study." Santana said quickly. She began walking away, hoping to draw the conversation from her father.

"I shouldn't trouble you anymore, Duke." Quinn said.

"Tell your father I hope he is well. I'm sure we will see each other soon." The Duke called after her before remembering where he had been going in the first place. Quinn followed Santana's fast, panicked footsteps with her own calm, collected ones. They marched into the study and Santana shut the door. Once it was closed, she lunged for the letter in Quinn's hands, only to grab at air when Quinn pulled it away.

"Shall I read it to you? It concerns you as well." She said, unfolding it.

"Give it here. It does not belong to you!" Santana yelled. Quinn smirked and began reading.

"'My Dear Lady Santana, I hope my poor penmanship does not offend you.'" Quinn paused. "Oh, this is really terrible penmanship indeed and the beginning is rather boring. Let me skip to the best part. 'I love you far too much to drag you down to my level. You deserve a prince, no, a king, not some pauper like me.'" Santana's throat closed and her corset seemed to tighten around her waist. "It goes on, she mentions that she loves you quite a bit. How noble of her, that must be why she left my estate so suddenly all those months ago. She was protecting you, isn't that true love?" Quinn's voice was tinged with disgust.

"That's...impossible...she gave me a letter..." Santana's mind raced back to that night when Brittany vanished from her life. She had received a letter from Brittany, but it was devoid of any affection. This...this must have been the letter Brittany had intended to send in the beginning. It made sense and it fit with what Brittany confessed when they met again.

And now it was in Quinn's wrathful hands.

"What should I do with this?" Quinn asked, waving the letter back and forth.

"Give it to me." Santana demanded. "Now."

"I think...I think your father should see this. I've no doubt what he'd do if he found out that Brittany harboured such sinful feelings for you."

"Give it here!" Santana felt on the verge of screaming.

"Could it be that you return those feelings? Oh, what would your father say?" Santana jumped forward again, yelling at the top of her lungs. Quinn sidestepped her and Santana went tumbling forward onto the ground. Quinn retreated to the door and held the letter high above her head.

"You belong to me now, Santana." Quinn hissed. "As long as I have this letter, you'll do exactly what I say." Santana slowly picked herself up from the ground. How could Brittany have been so careless? Her hair, a mess from the tussle, fell in front of her face. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes and she could not have been weaker than in that moment.

"What...what would you have me do?" She waited, not daring to breathe. She expected Quinn to demand that she break off the engagement to the King, or to debase herself in the worst way. A moment of silence passed and Santana looked up. What she saw in Quinn's eyes surprised her. Quinn was crying quietly and rather than look triumphant, she looked years older. Her shoulders slumped and her back curved. Her hands rested on her stomach.

"Protection." It was all Quinn said in response. Santana took a step forward and Quinn retreated an equal amount. "No, don't come any closer."

"I don't understand, protection...?" Santana asked. Quinn bit her lip and looked away. Her body trembled. With every second that passed, Quinn's confidence waned and Santana's confusion grew. "Quinn..."

"I'm with child." The words fell from her mouth in such a mess that it took a moment for Santana to comprehend. When she did, the weight of the sentence forced her to sit.

"Child..."

"That is why...that is why I need you. I need you to marry the King and to protect me when the time comes. What better person to keep me safe, keep a roof over my head and my lifestyle equal to what it is than you?" Quinn explained. She wiped her eyes. "When my father finds out, he'll cast me from his sights. I will have nowhere to turn...but you...as long as I have this letter, you'll do as I bid. I would control a Queen." It dawned on Santana that what Quinn did was out of desperation and not malice.

"With child." Santana repeated again. She still did not believe it. "Who is the father?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Duke Harrington? I heard the rumours..."

"It is Puck." Quinn blurted and suddenly Santana did not know what the world was coming to. "So you see, there is no Duke for me to force into marriage. I'm with an illegitimate child whose father cannot dream to support the life I'm accustomed to. And this," She held the letter up again. "This is my hope that all will be well." Santana got to her feet and slowly approached Quinn.

"You had no need to go such lengths." She said quietly. "Quinn, you need not be so cruel. We were once friends and I would protect you, letter or not."

"I had no guarantee, not after what I did to you and Brittany." Quinn replied.

"Still." Santana reached and touched Quinn's free hand. The young, scared girl pulled her hand away and covered her mouth.

"I'm frightened, Santana." She admitted. "Promise me." Quinn composed herself for a moment. "Promise me that you will protect me."

"I promise." Santana swore. She bit her lip. Everything that had every transpired seemed petty, then: their foolish fights over the King, their need to diminish each other's reputation, the venom coated exchanges they had in the past. They were no longer bickering children. In an instant, they both had grown and they both had an uncertain and terrifying future ahead of them. Santana realized, more than ever, that what they needed were allies.


	29. Part 3: How a Dynasty Falls

**A/N** This is the unbeta-ed version of the chapter. I will be uploading the beta-ed version in due time

Quinn left quietly after that even though Santana offered her dinner and a place to sleep for the night. But she could tell that Quinn needed to go home and rest, especially knowing her secret. She watched Quinn leave by carriage, and wondered just how desperate Quinn must have been to seek comfort in Puck's arms.

She mulled over Quinn's situation from the safety of her bed. It was certainly not an easy thing to fix, especially not as she was. If she married the King, certainly it would help. Santana drew her knees to her chest when she realized just how much of her future, and the future of others depended on her impending marriage.

She rang for Brittany out of habit, her hands absently reaching for the bell. It wasn't until Brittany knocked on the door that she even realized that she'd done so. Brittany entered with a quick glance down the hall to make sure that there was no one coming that way. She closed the door as quietly as possible, and made her way to Santana's side. She knew something was wrong in the way her Mistress stared blankly into space, in the heaviness of her breath and in the weak way she squeezed Brittany's hand when her servant placed it there to ease her burden, whatever it may be.

"Is everything alright? Did your meeting with Miss Quinn go well? She left in a hurry." Brittany tried to coax the source of Santana's worry out of her. Santana sighed heavily and leaned back against the pillows. She contemplated revealing to Brittany the reason for Quinn's visit; the letter, the pregnancy, and the plea for help. But it seemed unfair to tell Brittany such an intimate thing about another. She respected Quinn too much to speak of her greatest weakness.

"Everything is fine." Santana replied with a fake smile. Brittany shifted uncomfortably and Santana took her hand in both hers. "You will have to trust me when I say that you needn't worry." Brittany smiled brightly in return. That was her duty, to lift her Mistress's spirits with a smile that was almost too heavy to manage. She wanted her Mistress to tell her what bothered her so and help her shoulder the weight. But if she could only offer a smile, then she would do her best.

"Do you want me to get you anything? You must be hungry, Miss." Brittany offered. She started standing, but Santana pulled her back down.

"Stay with me a moment, Brittany." She commanded. Her grip on her servant's hand tightened. So much rested on her shoulders, on her engagement. She mourned the loss of her youth, not that she had much of it under the overbearing gaze of her mother. Brittany gazed sadly at her mistress's perturbed expression. She wished there was something she could do to make her Mistress smile again. And then it hit her.

"Your birthday approaches, Miss." Brittany said excitedly and Santana turned to her with some surprise. She had almost forgotten, and the thought troubled her for only a second. Her eyes glimmered with recollection.

"As does yours." The corners of Santana's mouth turned up excitedly. "We should celebrate it together." Brittany bounced excitedly in place, not at the prospect of spending their birthdays together, but at the renewed life in Santana's body.

"I will plan something, Miss, just for us."

* * *

Rachel bit her lip as the servants made her bed. She did not expect to spend the night at the King's castle. Even though his actions were honorable and noble, it didn't take a scholar to figure out that his intentions were hardly fitting of a man about to be married. But if anything, she was just as dishonest. Her room resided not a few feet from his chambers, and she wondered how many secret passages led from there to here.

"That's fine." The servants insisted on making everything as neat as possible even though all that effort would be wasted just a moment later. The servants acknowledged her request and left the room without another word. Rachel sat down on the bed and took in her surroundings. The palace was uncomfortably extravagant in its design with its ancient tapestries and paintings. She briefly wondered if Santana planned to redecorate the palace, and what she planned to do with the space. She put herself in Santana's shoes, thinking perhaps the walls needed a fresher, more lively color. And the paintings needed to be replaced, some were dreadfully gruesome, she'd always hated art depicting the hunt.

Rachel was so caught up in her thoughts of decor that she did not hear the door open. When movement caught her eye, she yelped in shock and jumped off the bed.

"I did not mean to startle you." Finn apologized immediately. He pressed his back against the door, the furthest he could go to show he meant no ill.

"Your Majesty, I'm sorry, I was lost in thought."

"I see." Finn replied.

"What do I owe the honor?" Rachel's heart still raced from the earlier scare but she wasn't so sure it was completely because of that.

"I came to see how you were settling in." Finn answered, gesturing to the grand room. "I hope everything is to your liking."

"Yes, very much so, Your Majesty." Finn hovered at the door, unsure whether to leave or to stay. He fumbled with the hem of his shirt, trying to think of a proper topic of conversation when really, all he wanted to do was to sit next to her and listen to her sing again.

"Have you been taking vocal lessons?" He asked finally. The subject of music brightened Rachel's demeanor considerably and she smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, I have! It is the only luxury my father will allow, but it is a luxury I enjoy more than anything in the world." Finn relaxed when she did and he took a step towards her.

"I'm glad to hear it. Though I'm sure anyone would pay for lessons, you have a lovely voice. If you ever are in need of money to pay the instructor, please, do not hesitate to ask." His offer was forward, and Rachel suddenly felt self-conscious of the fact that she was hardly in proper clothes to greet a king. Her nightgown seemed like nothing at all in front of him, though he did not seem to notice. Her eloquence left her, and she blushed like a maiden on her wedding night. The red on her cheeks spurred something deep in Finn's chest, and without warning he took a large step forward and grabbed hold of her shoulders. She stared into his eyes - hungry and tired of waiting - for a moment before he brought his lips to hers.

* * *

Santana awoke alone on her birthday. Brittany had departed sometime during the night and she sat up to ring the bell for her. The door opened and Santana slipped out of bed.

"Brittany is my father awake yet?" The voice that responded was pointedly not Brittany and Santana jumped in shock.

"Sorry, Miss Lopez, Brittany stepped out for the morning, she asked that I take her place." For a moment, Santana panicked and images of Brittany leaving again flashed before her eyes. But she remembered what Brittany said the night before, how she was planning their birthdays and she relaxed just a little. Noel's hands were nothing like Brittany's careful, trained, and precise. She fumbled with the laces and it was only because Santana knew of Noel's friendship with Brittany that she did not yell at her clumsiness.

Brittany did her best to focus on the task at hand. She had everything prepared, a small lunch near the pond at the edge of the Lopez estate - hardly anyone wandered out that way so it would be as private as possible, then they would ride into town, and Brittany would use what little money she had saved up to buy Santana a proper birthday present. And then...

She held up a small ring, created by weaving two baby's breath flowers together. She slipped it onto her finger, testing the size of the makeshift jewelry. She knew it was nothing compared to the no doubt gorgeous, expensive silver ring that will occupy Santana's hand in the future, but she hoped that, despite its fleeting glory, it signified something deeper than what she and the king shared. She knew Santana had to marry him, but every time she thought of it, it made her chest burn and the taste in her mouth soured.

* * *

The dining table had only one plate, which meant that her father was not joining her for breakfast. Santana ate alone, the sound of her utensils clinking together filling the empty space. He couldn't even show up for her birthday, and she was certain he'd forgotten. Suddenly she wasn't so hungry, and she set down her fork and knife. She motioned for the servants to take her plate away and she settled back into her chair.

She worried about her father more than anything else in the world. He had not been right since her mother's exile, and now with her death...she feared for his well being. He was as in love with her as she was with Brittany, perhaps more. She could only guess at how much he sacrificed for her. She stood up and left the dining room to check on her father. She spotted his valet leaving the study and quietly approached the door. She brought her hands to the door and knocked softly.

"Come in." She opened the door and peered inside. Her father sat at his desk, his hands clasped on either side of his face, mulling over a map. When she walked in, he looked up at her curiously.

"Are you alright, father?"

"Santana!" He exclaimed, startled by her appearance. He quickly calmed and sighed, turning his attention back to the map. "I'm fine, but this country isn't. These damned idiots, they think revolution is the answer, when all it would do is burn and destroy everything we've worked for these past decades. Do they think that power would truly be returned to the people? No, another ruler would rise in the ashes of their revolution and they would be no better off." He slammed his hand down on the desk. He collected himself, ran his hands through his greasy, unkempt hair and stood up. He walked over to her, placed his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry, princess, I shouldn't trouble you with these things. What is it?" Santana opened her mouth to remind him that it was her birthday, but she looked at his gaunt, wrinkled face, and then at the map sitting on his desk.

"It's nothing, father." She said instead. She would not burden him any more than he needed to be. If he missed one birthday, there were worse crimes to commit. He kissed her forehead and held her firmly.

"When all of this is over, we'll take a long, relaxing journey to visit your cousin in Spain. It will be just us, I won't even invite the King, even if he is your husband by then. I've neglected you too much, and I apologize for it."

"Don't apologize, father." It broke Santana's heart to hear him such things. "But I would love nothing more than that." He smiled at her and let her go before pouring over his map once more. Santana lingered at the door, watching the creases form on his strong, once determined features. She knew better than anyone that things in the country were not well, and he may never have a chance to keep his promise.

She stepped out into the hallway and rested against the door for a moment. She stopped a nearby servant and motioned for her to come close.

"Send my father some sandwiches. He's been in there for far too long, and I fear he's forgotten how to eat." The servant nodded and hurried off to the kitchen to deliver the order. She had just turned to go up the steps to her room when she caught a glimpse of light hair in the sun. She knew before she even saw her face it was her beloved. The smile returned to her face, and she did her best to remain patient while Brittany caught up to her.

"Miss." Brittany said with a smile. Santana feigned displeasure.

"And where have you been all morning?" She demanded. "Do you even know how terribly that Noel girl tied my blouse?" She twirled in place for Brittany to see. Brittany bowed, hiding the grin on her face.

"My sincerest apologies, Miss. I was busy with other things."

"And what could they possibly be?" Santana said, finally giving up the act. Her eyes sparkled brightly and she giggled despite herself.

"You'll have to wait and see, Miss." Brittany responded.

* * *

It was well past noon when Rachel stirred from sleep. Her eyes fluttered open against the harsh rays of sunlight and for a moment, all was well in her world. But the sheets underneath her were not the sheets she was accustomed to back at her estate, nor were the walls the color of her bedroom. She started and flung herself away from the foreign pillows, clutching the sheets to her body. She was still clothed, but it was hardly a comfort when she remembered the events of the night previous.

The King...he made advances towards me. A blush crept onto her cheeks when she remembered the scratchy beginnings of a beard pressed upon her soft face. She could picture all too clearly, as if freshly plucked from her dream, his lips and the way his eyes gazed into hers when they finally opened.

Does he love me? The door opened and she jumped again. For a moment, she was convinced that it was the King but instead one of the many servants of the palace walked in and bowed low when she saw that Rachel was awake.

"How was your rest, Miss?"

"Fine." She replied.

"That is good to hear. The King requests that you stay for lunch before you return to your estate. Shall I inform him you will be joining him?" The mere thought of seeing the King after their heated exchange left Rachel speechless and she nodded. The servant smiled politely, and Rachel thought she saw a bit of a knowing smirk behind her expression.

"I'll send someone to help you dress." She said before leaving the room.

The kiss was equally prominent on the King's mind. He paced the floor of the dining area impatiently, thinking maybe Rachel was going to turn him down. His heart soared when news came down that she was to join him. But just as quickly as his happiness swelled in his chest, rationale and the memory of a certain Duke's daughter caught up to his mirth and quelled it.

I am to be married to Santana. He said as his confidence deflated. My God, I am to be married to another, and here I am...consorting with someone who is not my betrothed. He sat down and his shoulders slumped. What do I do?

He had very little time to think further when the door opened and his jaw dropped. Rachel was by no means well off, but the clothes with which his staff decided to adorn her were rich in material and design. She wore a stunning purple dress, gold trimmed to fit any royal and they'd done her hair so perfectly, with a gold ribbon to keep it all up, that she looked befitting of any court rather than the humble farm from where she came. He stood from his chair and stared.

"You...you look beautiful." He stammered and Rachel flushed crimson. She smiled at the ground and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"You flatter me too much." She whispered. He waited until she was seated to take his again. Her beauty robbed him of any words and he was content to watch her eat, leaving his own food unattended until she pointed it out.

"You've hardly touched your breakfast, Your Majesty."

"If I told you I loved you, and have since the first time I've laid eyes on you, would you take offense?"

Silence filled the room, save for the clatter of silverware on the table and then floor. The king immediately stiffened.

"I've been careless with my words." He said, immediately getting up and leaving the room. Rachel's hands shook as she kept her gaze fixated on her plate. Her heart and mind raced uncontrollably as she struggled to process the King's sudden confession. The implications were beyond hers to understand.

And yet...

She knew she had loved him since they first met when a few of the other nobles mocked her for her relative poverty. He had come to her rescue, and she had wanted nothing more than to love and be loved by him.

She stood and gave chase.

* * *

Brittany led Santana down by the lake. It was quiet and sunny, perfect weather for Brittany's surprise.

"What is a this?" Santana asked in delighted surprise. Brittany could not hide her grin even if she wanted.

"Your birthday surprise, I'd planned something, for you, do you not recall?" Brittany responded. Santana blinked in silent surprise. All the stress had wiped it from her mind, and as she remembered that Brittany had said it not a full day ago, she laughed aloud.

"I am sorry." She looked around before kissing Brittany on the cheek. "It had completely slipped my mind." She grabbed Brittany and pulled her into a tight embrace. Her eyes scanned the horizon, noting all too well the darkening clouds on the otherwise beautiful horizon. When Brittany pulled away, her eyes shone bright enough to lighten the impending darkness.

"After lunch, Miss, I was thinking we could ride into town, I've been saving up enough money to buy you a present, not a very expensive one, my apologies, Miss. And when we've had our fill of town, we could take a walk around the river, liven your complexion a little. You haven't seen much sun late.." Santana cut off her rambling with a kiss.

"I just want you. Nothing else." She said quietly. Brittany understood all too well what she needed. They stood, discarding the untouched food near the lake and hurried up the lawn, ignoring the distant sound of thunder.

The Duke slept most of the day choosing to ignore his duties as Duke in favor of forgetting the image of his wife that plagued him day by day. When he awoke it was only at the insistence of his valet to eat something as his daughter had commanded. When he stirred from sleep, he heard the door to Santana's room close.

"Your Grace," His valet said solemnly. "If I may..."

"Is there something wrong?" He asked sternly.

"Your Grace, it might not be my place to say, but is there something you are forgetting today?" Duke Lopez frowned. He might have been getting on in age, and certainly things were slipping his mind, but hopefully none so important that his own servant was to remind him.

"What is it?" He asked crossly.

"Today is Miss Santana's birthday." Thunder cracked above their heads, to signal the words echoing in the Duke's brain.

"Pardon me?"

"Today, Your Grace. Miss Santana was born today."

"I know what you said." He hissed and scrambled to find the date. When he did, he murmured a quiet "How could I?" It explained Santana's behavior earlier and his whole body filled with shame. His own daughter, his beloved little girl, how could he have forgotten such an important date after all she had been through?

"I must...I must fix this." There was a lot more to fix than just a birthday, that he knew. He resolved that things would be better after she settled into the castle, after the wedding, after the country quieted down. He would try to do better.

"Thank you." He said, dismissing his valet. At least wishing Santana a happy birthday would be a start.

* * *

Santana's lips brushed Brittany's collarbone and her servant let out a quiet, but firm moan. Her arms shake, unable to bear the weight of them both and when they give out, the two fall back onto the bed, the covers rising a little with impact. Santana propped herself up and inched a little further so that their lips aligned perfectly for a kiss.

The thud that the door made matched the boom in their heart when they heard it. Santana sat up straight and rolled off even before she completely understood what that noise was. Brittany hurried to retie her blouse, though the act itself was useless.

The Duke's eyes searched the room, his gaze glossing over them as if they weren't there, as if they were invisible to what he wanted to see. But soon his stare hardened, and Santana scrambled to her feet. She had never seen such darkness in her father's eyes.

"Father." She said as she walked towards him. She reached for his arm to steady him, to let him feel that she was still his flesh and blood. She felt the pain more than she saw the action. His hand shot out and slapped hers away. She gasped in pain and took a step back. The Duke's shoulders began quaking, and he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

It hadn't just been the sound of a door opening into their private, most intimate moments. It had also been the sound of a door slamming shut in their faces.

"Wait here." Santana said. Brittany, pale and cationic, could only nod once. Santana opened the door and followed her father down the hall. The house was quiet, as if it was abandoned. Santana tiptoed across the hall toward her father's room. The door creaked slightly, and Santana froze thinking her father may emerge from the darkness of his quarters. But moments passed and Santana saw no movement. She crept on until face was practically flush against the slightly ajar door.

"Father…" her voice clawed at her throat and silence answered her call. "Father."

"Who goes there?" It was a voice she barely recognized, so mangled, so bitter and angry in its utterance. "I know of no one who should call me 'father'."

"Father don't say that. I'm your daughter, and I still am."

"If I had a daughter, she would not commit such a sin. If I had a daughter she would marry the King, not give herself up like a whore to a peasant." Behind the hurtful words, she heard something much more sinister. It took Santana a minute to realize where she had heard that tone before.

It was her mother's hatred hiding behind her father's voice.

"Father it's me, please, father come out." And he did. He charged out of the room and grabbed her by the arm. The sudden movement frightened Santana into a scream and Brittany bolted out of Santana's bedroom.

"Brittany go back inside!" Santana yelled but Brittany froze in place. Her father lowered his gaze onto her, and dragged Santana forcefully towards her. In any other situation, Brittany would have left, but her Mistress was in danger, and she could not leave. The Duke seized Brittany with his other hand, his fingers cutting off blood to her lower arm. His fingers would leave marks in the morning.

"Both of you, get out!" He shouted and dragged them both downstairs towards the door. Servants peeked out to look at the commotion and hurried back into their beds when they saw what was happening. The Duke practically lifted both of them in the air when they resisted and dumped them both outside in the rain. He flung them onto the dirt path.

"Father!" Santana cried as mud and rain stained her beautiful dress.

"I have no daughter!" He roared and faced the guard. "If you let this sinner back into my estate, mark my word, I will have you head." He stormed back through the gates and the closed quickly behind him for fear that Santana might slip through. Santana flung herself at the bars and cried for her father until her voice cracked and would bear the weight of his name no more.

Brittany shook with fear, but she knew it was worse for her Mistress. She steeled herself, steadied her cold soaked hands and held her Mistress on the ground.

"We must get out of the rain." She whispered as gently as possible. Santana resigned herself to Brittany's coaxing. Together they helped each other up, and began the long trek to find a new home.


	30. Part 3: Rebuilding a Family

Quinn didn't expect guests when she was just about to turn in for the night. Dressed in her night gown, the covers already warm, a servant rudely interrupted her as she reached over to blow out the candle.

"Miss Quinn," her servant had every right to be timid in her approach. Quinn glared at her as coldly as she could manage. "There's someone here to see you."

"Who on earth could be seeing me at this time of night?!" She demanded. "Tell them to come back in the morning like decent people."

"Miss, it's Lady Santana Lopez. She insists…" Quinn jumped out of bed hearing Santana's name. Why would Santana be there unless something had gone terribly wrong. Immediately her mind went to her unborn child. Had Santana said something? Her mind reeled with a dozen negative possibilities, but nothing prepared her for actually seeing Santana.

She had clearly walked the entire way. Her clothes were soaked and caked in mud, her hair was a mess, and her eyes were puffy, like she had cried for hours. Brittany clung to her arm, like she was the only thing keeping Santana from falling over on the spot. Seeing her in that state made Quinn's blood run cold and she pulled them outside, off to the side where prying eyes and ears could not see or hear them.

"What has happened to you?" Quinn demanded, less so out of concern for Santana than needing to know what her next step would be. Santana just shivered in place, and Brittany's grip on her tightened, as if to keep her there. "Santana…"

"Her father threw her out." Fresh tears spilled from Santana's eyes when she heard the truth come out of Brittany's mouth. "He...he discovered us together and threw both of us out." Quinn's brain swam, and she felt as though she'd been thrown from a horse.

"Threw you...when are you allowed back? Did he speak of this to anyone…?"

"We are never to return." Santana choked. "He disowned me, I am no longer…" She returned to simply shaking in Brittany's arms. Quinn said nothing but her mind felt like a storm. If the Duke had thrown her own, and had disowned her, she would not have a title, she would not marry the king. And she would not be able to help her anymore. Her mind went to the child developing in her belly. The would not be able to save her like she needed.

"Please, Miss Quinn, help us. We are cold, and weary, and we need a place to stay, just for a little while." Brittany pleaded. Quinn's lips trembled when she opened them to speak again.

"Get out." She hissed. Brittany and Santana's head shot up. "Get away from my estate."

"Quinn, why are you doing this?" Santana demanded.

"You've nothing for me, nothing for my child. Do you think my father will allow two girls worth nothing to sleep under his roof, eat and drink his food and water? Get out. You've no use to me anymore!" She threw her arms out and shoved the two of them back.

"Quinn, you ungrateful little…"

"Ungrateful? I've kept your sin to myself, I've not breathed a word of it to anyone. And this is how you repay me? You've only thought of yourself, did you not understand what was at stake? I have a _child_ in me, Santana. And the country needed you leading our sad excuse for a king." She pushed them again, until they were out in the rain. "Get out and never come here again." Tears pricked at her eyes and she ran back inside. The doors slammed behind her, resoundingly shutting their only option away.

"You whore!" Santana screamed and Brittany did her best to rein her in. Santana continued to scream obscenities as Brittany led her away.

"She has already caused us so much grief, and this is how she repays us?!" Santana yelled. Brittany coaxed her down with a kiss to the lips and Santana remembered herself again.

"What do we do now?" Santana whispered her eyes brimming with fear. Brittany kissed her brow, and her hands, and held her tightly.

"I don't know."

* * *

Quinn flew into a rage when she entered her bedroom. She took the nearest cup and threw it against the wall where it shattered to pieces. Her servants immediately rushed in.

"OUT!" She screamed and they backed away quickly, leaving her alone to her thoughts. Anger and panic flooded her body, and she held her hand to her stomach. She wondered if God hated her, and wanted to see her suffer as much as possible. She curled up in her bed. It wouldn't be long before her belly swelled to the point where her parents would notice, and could not mistake it for anything but what it was. How many months had it been? Two? She could not say for certain.

She folded the blankets over her head and sighed. What would she do now? Would she try her hand again in marriage? Her thoughts took form. If Santana was no longer to marry the King, perhaps she once again had her chance. She prayed quietly, in hopes that she would succeed this time. It was her last hope.

* * *

They walked all night, and most of the day. Their clothes barely held their original color, so caked with mud they were. Santana let Brittany lead her, their hands firmly clasped together. She did not know how far they walked, only that her feet stung until she had to remove her shoes. She forgot how cold it was, and she forgot how tired she grew. Her only thought was that of her father, telling her that he had no daughter, and yelling for her never to return.

She never thought that her father would ever say those words to her. Chills ran up her spine when she remembered her mother's hatred behind his voice. He had not been the same, it was like he had been possessed since her death.

"Santana, we're here." Brittany whispered quietly. Santana looked up, jolted out of her thoughts, and away from her father's glare. She took in her surroundings, and memory slowly filled her mind. She knew this place, she knew the houses, and the little cobble path.

"Brittany, this is…"

"This is where I lived before I went back with you." She replied with a smile. "I'm hoping...I'm hoping that no one has moved in, that we still have a home." We. The word brought surprising warmth into Santana's chest. She held Brittany's hand a little tighter.

"Yes, I hope we do."

As they approached the door, Santana grabbed a hold of Brittany's arm tightly.

"Brittany, what if your landlord recognizes me? I came here once, I spoke with him. I-I did not give my name, and it was brief..." Brittany urged her into silence, though her own heart pounded at the thought. She could only imagine the chaos she would cause if the rest of the town found out that she was harboring a disgraced noblewoman.

"It will be alright. His memory comes and goes, and…" She loosened Santana's hair more, until it cascaded over her shoulders, messy from the rain. "In this state you hardly look like the Santana I once knew." The words stung, even though Brittany did not mean for it to. She kissed Santana quickly on the lips, and they approached the door again.

She didn't realize how nervous she was until she'd knocked three times on her landlord's door and no one answered. She wondered if he had left, if no one lived there anymore. She brought her hand up to knock one more time when the door opened.

"What do you want?" She found her breath again when she saw his familiar, white and wispy bearded face glaring up at her. His expression changed immediately when he saw her face.

"Brittany Pierce, as I live and breathe." He reaches out feebly and clasps her arms.

"It's good to see you again. Did you get the letters I sent?" She asked.

"Yes, I did. How have you fared?" He asked. "Oh, come in, come in." He motioned for the two of them to enter. His eyes lingered on Santana and Brittany's breath caught in her throat. Would he recognize her? His expression registered confusion, but not recognition, like she was someone plucked from a distant memory. She scanned Santana up and down. Covered in mud, her otherwise expensive clothing looked no better that something she picked up off the side of the road.

"This is my very dear friend, Santana." Brittany interjected before he could ask. "We used to work together." He looked her up and down and a few seconds seemed to stretch on.

"Ah, I see, it is a pleasure to meet you." He stuck his hand out and took Santana's in his own. Brittany breathed a little easier once they shook hands. "We, ah, we have a favor to ask."

"Tell me, I will see what I can do." He said in earnest. "You've been kind to a lonely old man in his last years of life, I will do what I can to help you in return."

"Both of us lost our jobs, working at the estate, and we need a place to stay. I would like my old room back." Brittany blurted. "If...if that is no one else has occupied it." The old man blinked and burst into laughter.

"Is that all?" He asked. "My, no one has lived there since you left. No one has inquired at all. Of course you may have it back." Relief and joy spread throughout Brittany's body, and the cast a glance over at Santana. She could see her Mistress relax as well.

"You'll be paying a little more if your friend is staying with you." He says, nodding towards Santana.

"Of course." Brittany responds quickly.

"And our original agreement still stands. You'll keep this old fool company a few hours a day when you cook my meals."

"You should get a wife for that." Brittany chides and he laughs a loud, nearly toothless smile.

"And you should get a husband, both of you." She smiles back at him, and throws a knowing look Santana's way. They had no need for such things.

* * *

Puck awoke to the sound of the barn door swinging open. He scrambled to his feet, pieces of straw sticking to his clothing as he hurried down below. The stable master rushed to his desk and began throwing everything into his cloth sack, paper, clothes, anything of minor value he could manage.

"What are you doing?" Puck demanded and the stable master whirled on him, nearly jumping out of his skin when he heard Puck's voice.

"Puck!"

"Are you going somewhere?" Puck demanded.

"Everyone is." The stable master replied, turning back around and continuing. "The Duke has lost his mind, and we're not stupid enough to stay."

"The Duke?"

"He's thrown his own daughter out. He's drunk and violent. Stay if you want, but I know when to leave when given the chance." _Thrown his daughter…_ Puck's head jerked towards the estate. He caught a glimpse of a few servants leaving with bags in their hands. _Santana…?_ And then, never too far from Santana even in another's thoughts, _Brittany!_

"Did Brittany Pierce leave as well?" Puck demanded.

"I did not see her, though I did not look." The stable master shouldered his bag and faced Puck. "Were I you, I would not linger. The estate, this damned country isn't what it used to be. War festers under the surface, and I doubt anyone found on this premise will be given the freedom to walk away." He clapped Puck on the shoulder and left the barn. Puck gazed at the house, his heart racing. If Santana had been cast out, Brittany was surely with her.

His first instinct was to seek out Noel. He found her still in the kitchen, her face a pale mask of fear, but diligently cleaning the counters.

"Noel." He hissed. Noel turned to him, and immediately pulled him away. "What is happening around here?"

"Everyone is leaving." Noel hissed as she shoved him into the pantry. "I'm sure you've heard, the Duke cast away his own daughter. Threw her out into the streets."

"Why?" Puck demanded, but he assumed the worst.

"No one knows why, he was ranting and raving. He threw her and Brittany out last night, and he hasn't come out of his room since. He struck his own valet."

"Why are you still here?" Puck demanded.

"Where else would I go?" Noel asked. "Some of us have family, but I have no one, I have nothing but my duties here."

"The Duke sounds unwell." His mind only thought of Brittany's well being, and he ran his fingers through his short hair. "Do you have any idea where they went?" Noel shook her head. Outside, something clattered on the ground, making both of them jump. Noel touched his shoulder.

"I must go. If we are to maintain some sort of order…"

"Order?" Puck grabbed her arm. "The Duke has clearly lost his mind."

"He is a good man, and he has been good to us." Noel snapped. "And it is our duty to help him reclaim his mind for as long as we are employed." She swung the door open and left Puck alone amongst the potatoes and carrots.

* * *

This was far more terrifying than ruling a country, Finn decided as his carriage pulled up to the front gates of the small Berry estate, complete with full escort. Surely the mere sight of his royal guards was enough to incite panic. But a hand closed around his and he looked to his side where Rachel's comforting smile gave him courage.

And after all, who could refuse a king?

Her father was already out the door, closely followed by his valet by the time Finn even stepped out of the carriage.

"Your Majesty!" They immediately bowed and bent on one knee.

"Please, no, get up." He pleaded.

"To what…" He stood, and began when he saw Rachel exit the carriage as well. His concern turned into pure panic as he looked from the king to his own daughter. "What has she done? Please forgive her, whatever…"

"Let us go inside. We can talk more there." Finn suggested, gesturing towards the small house. He felt Rachel squeeze his arm lightly, and he threw her a lopsided smile to let her know things were going to be alright.

Her house was large by most standards, but Finn found it quaint. He ducked his head going in through the door, and they quickly led him to the dining hall, a fraction of the size he was used to seeing.

"Please forgive me, Your Majesty, had I known you were coming, I would have prepared something more suitable. I'll have the cook prepare some sandwiches immediately." Lord Berry apologized. Finn put up his hands and seated himself.

"Please don't trouble yourself on my account." He begged. "I'm more than comfortable, and I had breakfast not to long ago. Some tea, however." Lord Berry motioned for a servant to go fetch tea, and the guards shut the door behind them. Rachel fidgeted in her place and Finn cleared his throat.

"I supposed I should get to the point, as to why I'm here. It's a very delicate matter, and I'm hoping…"

"Finn and I wish to be married!" Rachel blurted, unable to contain her happiness any longer. The room went silent, and Lord Berry stared blankly at his daughter. Finn coughed, for lack of anything to say now that Rachel had done it for him. Lord Berry turned his head very slowly to look at the king.

"Your Majesty, I do not dare ask if she speaks the truth." He whispered. His hands shook as they came to a rest on the table. Finn could not stop himself from smiling as he looked over at Rachel.

"It is. I am….I am in love with your daughter, Lord Berry, and I've come here today to ask for her hand in marriage." It looked like Lord Berry was about to keel over with this announcement, and he leaned heavily on the table.

"Marriage?"

"Yes." Finn proudly responded.

"Marriage, a king, to my daughter." He suddenly broke into a smile and clapped his hands together. "Your Majesty, even could I disapprove, I would not. I am sure my daughter will protest, but I must tell you that she spoke very fondly of you these past few years. I long suspected that her affections went beyond simple admiration, and I've never seen her so happy than she is when speaking about you." Hearing these words made Finn's smile grow and his heart swell.

"Father…" Rachel blushed.

"But, Your Majesty, if I may say so myself. It is common knowledge that you are betrothed to another, that you are intending to wed the Lady Santana Lopez." Finn's face fell, as did Rachel's at the mention of Santana's name.

"Yes." Finn began very carefully. "It was in my intent. However, I did not know the extent of my feeling for your daughter then. I understand that I have been promised, and while it pains me to do so, I also mean to break off my betrothal." He gazed once more into Rachel's eyes. "I could not bear to be with anyone else." Tears brimmed in Lord Berry's eyes, in all of his wildest dreams, he did not think that the king would fall in love and marry his own daughter.

"Of course I give my blessing." He said, standing. He clasped Finn's hand in his own, and the deed was done.

* * *

Santana slept most of the day. Brittany washed and hung their dirty clothes out to dry while she did. She sat next to Santana, and wondered how exhausted she must be to be sleeping on a dusty, hard mattress. She looked at her small home. Hardly anything had changed since she left. Her landlord must not have had anyone else stay there. She made a mental list of what she needed to do. They needed to eat, so she needed once again to find a place to work. She didn't dream of making Santana lift a finger, but she silently acknowledged that eventually, she must to keep them both fed, sheltered, and clothed. But as long as she could, she would make sure Santana lived comfortably.

It was late in the evening when Santana awoke again. She sat up, shivering and Brittany immediately went to her, her arms holding her close while flames kindled in the fireplace. Santana rubbed her eyes and touched her hair, then let her eyes focus until she knew for certain that it had not been just a bad dream. What little hope in her eyes died when she saw her surroundings.

"I had thought…" She began and then trailed off. Brittany quickly went over to the fireplace and retrieved a loaf of bread and soup she'd been warming. It was all she could buy with the various bits of clothes she'd pawned off, including her shoes.

"Eat." Brittany said, shoving the bowl in Santana's hand. Santana ate automatically, hardly tasting it, though there was little to taste. "Santana, your father," Santana flinched hearing those words. "Surely, he does not mean what he said." The image of her father's cold eyes as he regarded her turned her already empty appetite. She set both the bowl and the bread down.

"You saw how he looked at me." Santana whispered. "He meant it."

"Perhaps now, yes. His anger blinds him. But write to him in a month, and I guarantee he will respond, and apologize. You are his only kin." Santana leaned against Brittany and took comfort in the solid way she held her.

"I hope you are right." She sighed. Brittany picked up the food from Santana's lap and forced it back into her hands.

"Eat, Mistress." She insisted, and Santana laughed pitifully.

"We're equals now, Brittany, don't you know?" Her own stomach growled, and she fixed a small portion for herself. As she sat back down, Santana turned her head and kissed Brittany's hand. In some ways, this was what she wanted. She wanted a life with Santana, where they could be like this without prying eyes and ears. And still, it was as far from what she imagined as possible.

They woke in each other's embrace, though Santana started several times over the long night and each time Brittany would coax her back onto the bed, and still her tremors with kisses and words until Santana fell back asleep again. The ordeal tired her out, but still she rose when the first rays of light shone through the window, signalling the beginning of her, of _their_ new life. She stood slowly and carefully, so as not to wake her Mistress. She hurried downstairs to make breakfast, and it was as if she had never left. He greeted her warmly, asked her how things were and she responded positively.

"You know, that little patch of land out back, it's still yours if you still want it." He said between bites of bread and stew. She did not look forward to seeing her neglected garden. It would take at least another season for her to start growing flowers again. She would need to find income elsewhere, perhaps at the town tailor's again, if he had not given the job to someone else. She thanked him, and went outside to inspect the damage.

Weeds covered most of the patch, though a few of her flowers had managed to survive the fray and they poked out through the vines, begging to be taken care of again. She pulled at the vines and excess flora, freeing a patch of carnations. She sighed and knelt by her poor garden. It had been her little reminder of Santana, of the time they spent in the garden on her estate.

"Brittany?" Brittany turned her head to see Santana walking towards her, a blanket wrapped around her body.

"Miss!"

"Was this your garden?" Santana asked, kneeling beside her. Brittany looked at it sadly.

"Yes, Miss."

"You don't have to call me that anymore." Santana noted.

"Sorry, Miss. It will be hard for me to not call you that." Brittany smiled.

"Santana will do."

"Yes, Miss." Brittany teased. Santana turned the soil over in her hand, crumbling the larger pieces between her fingers.

"We'll have to get this garden blooming again." Santana said. "You used to sell flowers, back when you lived here, right?" Brittany nodded quietly. "I know nothing of gardening. You will have to show me."

"Miss, Santana, I wouldn't dare ask you to work." Santana smiled softly, and took her hands in her own.

"Brittany, we're in this together."

"Two women must be in need of a man to help out." The two of them jumped when they heard a familiar voice from behind them. They turned their heads just in time to see Puck approach them, a smile plastered on his face. "I've finally found you two."

"Puck!" Brittany stood on her feet and threw her arms around him. Santana looked away, ashamed that he had to see her in such a state. He set Brittany down with a laugh, and then reached out to Santana.

"It's good to see that you are safe." He said earnestly. Santana's eyes flicked up at him gratefully, though shame still burned brightly on her cheeks.

"How did you find us?" Brittany asked.

"You told me, remember?" Puck replied. "When you first returned, you told me of this town, where it was. It certainly took me all night to find you. And here I am." He gestured to himself. "Can't leave two ladies in distress, can I?"

"We're doing just fine." Brittany lied, though it was clear by the blank look in Santana's eyes that it was far from the case. Puck put his arm around Brittany and drew her in. His hand reached out and grasped Santana's.

"I am truly sorry about what happened." He whispered.

"As am I." Puck held onto both of their hands.

"You two are as close to family as I will ever have. I am here to help. It will be far easier for a man to find work than you two." Santana's ears perked when she heard the word family. Her eyes lifted and met Puck's and then rested on Brittany's. Family.

"Santana, what do you think?" She asked. Puck squeezed her hand, and there was something about the roughness of his skin against hers that reminded her of her father's hands. Family.

"Of course. I, we would be more than happy to have you. In truth, it is good to see more than one friendly, familiar face." Santana replied. She'd suffered betrayal too much this past day, from her father and Quinn. She couldn't afford to turn away help when she most needed it. And...family...she could begin to rebuild what she had lost.


End file.
